


War of Art

by sudapigrafool



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudapigrafool/pseuds/sudapigrafool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Authorship: Polydeuces<br/>Summary: S/T-era; 2006 orig.<br/>Tomo auditions for a spot in the band. This is war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Becoming Unclear

_"…unless you use local guides,_  
 _you cannot get the advantage of the land._  
 _So a military force is established by deception,_  
 _mobilized by gain, and adapted by_  
 _division and combination_  
 _therefore when it moves swiftly it is like the wind,_  
 _when it goes slowly it is like a forest;_  
 _it is rapacious as fire, immovable as mountains._  
 _It is as hard to know as the dark;_  
 _its movement is like pealing thunder."_  
  
\-  The Art of War "VII: Armed Struggle" by Sun Tzu

 

\---------

Tomo showed up for his audition in a pair of tattered, low slung, charcoal gray jeans that couldn’t have been much tighter without busting at the rivets. Or so Shannon was thinking. He watched as the guitarist lazily tucked his arms behind his head, and slouched back into a swivel chair close to the studio console. Tauntingly, the ragged hem of his shirt raised up above his navel. Beneath it, a shadowy line of baby fine hairs descended and disappeared below the button at the top of his fly.  
  
Lordy.  
  
Shannon had known Tomo for a while now. They’d hang together after gigs sometimes, a kind of hit or miss thing whenever Tomo was in LA. But, he’d never seen him quite like this before. Wearing a dark, sullen smile, he’d made his startling appearance in the studio doorway, ready to make his audition. A sultry, smooth-cheeked fallen angel; sly, sensual, and somewhat more than prepared to face the Leto brothers’ challenge. Jesus.  
  
Matt had greeted Tomo hesitantly at first giving him a perplexed once-over, then warmed enthusiastically to the quality of his playing. He found it impossible not to admire Tomo’s freedom and reckless style. There was something to be said for his approach to the songs, and how he threw away a very raw sound on a firm foundation of technical discipline. Matt’s impression of Tomo’s technique was a lot like his take on the guy himself. Slick and dangerous. You would not want to make a false move around him, or it might be your last, until you woke up lying flat on you back with your pants around your ankles. Damn.  
  
Shannon couldn’t help but note with amusement how Matt kept hovering next to Jared a little bit closer than usual. A barnyard tomcat who’d scented a lynx stealthily emerging from the tree line. This was going to be interesting. He watched as Tomo’s wandering stare lingered hypnotically over Jared, finally telling the whole story. Uh-huh, and just how long had he been studying that wayward baby brother of his, Shannon wondered, waiting for his chance?  
  
Long enough to know.  
  
Jared, however, in a magnificent display of hubris, was ignoring it all. Or trying to. He fiddled with the mic placement and the mix, listening critically to every playback. Stone-faced with intensity, he watched Tomo from the control room window, peering into the booth through the glass. Then, after suggesting some modifications to the overall sound, they would go at it again.  
  
Tomo’s fingers ran over his instrument with effortless dexterity, beyond the need to think about how to get the sound in his head to materialize under his hands. His playing slid languorously and effortlessly into the melody, his back arching in a sensuous curve that twisted above the tight mounds of his ass. It was hard to misconstrue the invitation. Shannon knew Jared had finally had enough and was ready to act when he announced he was going outside for a smoke. That provoked a smile from his big brother’s lips. Sometimes rehearsing was just like foreplay to Jared. Auditions, it would seem, were a bit more of the same. Apparently he’d finally found himself a kindred spirit. Having a cigarette now represented a break with Jared’s usual routine, but Shannon shrugged knowingly. It would save him from needing one after.  
  
"Alright, well, I’m heading back into town then," Shannon said casually, since it seemed there was no need for the rest of the band to hang around for the remainder of the session. He turned in Jared’s direction, watching him gently twist a bottle of fingerboard oil in his hands, then set it aside. Jared never returned his look; his eyes were glued on Tomo.  
  
"I’ll go with you," Matt muttered. That probably meant he needed to talk, thought Shannon. Although talking about his feelings was not the thing that Matt did best. More than likely they’d sit in the cab of his truck together and commiserate in silence.  
  
Jared leaned over and planted a noisy, wet kiss on Matt’s cheek just below the corner of his eye. "Bye," his voice lilted in a low tease.  
  
"Later," Matt mumbled, as he shuffled out after Shannon. The door closed on their departure with a muffled thunk.  
  
"C’mon," said Jared brusquely, pointing Tomo out the back way.  
  
It was just a small studio where they’d once made some demo recordings in the distant past. The owner was a friend of Shannon’s who’d dropped the keys into his hand and told him to lock up and set the alarm when they were done. That way, they’d had a kind of neutral place to meet with Tomo and listen to him play. And the playbacks had helped keep everybody objective as they listened to them together.  
  
That is, until objectivity had finally been overwhelmed by animal pheromones.  
  
Jared ducked down a short hallway with Tomo following right behind him. He pushed open the back door and stepped outside into a brilliant stab of afternoon sun breaking over a cracked and fissured parking lot. Coarse grass and wild thistle tore up through jagged rents in the black top. A wide expanse of urban emptiness spread out around them. Jared settled himself on the top step of the concrete stairs, and leaned against the railing, lighting up. Meanwhile, Tomo slid passed him and disappeared around the edge of the building, exploring.  
  
There wasn’t much to explore, so after he’d been gone for more than a few minutes, Jared ground out his cigarette and went after him. Tomo looked up just in time to see Jared turn the corner between buildings and freeze in mid-stride, watching as Tomo fished a modest length of cock out the open front of his jeans and released a stream of urine against the wall.  
  
"You know, there’s a bathroom inside for that sort of thing," Jared stated flatly, speaking into the twilight of the alleyway’s shadow.  
  
The top of Tomo’s pants had slipped halfway down his butt, and it was obvious he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Jesus…  
  
"Yeah?" Tomo let a small, reserved smile creep across his face as he shook off the last drop.  
  
Jared very nearly rolled his eyes at him. How much more in-your-face could he possibly be? Then again, maybe there was something to be said for this artless, inelegant approach. Fewer games.  
  
Tomo tucked himself away and came sauntering back over to Jared, close enough that the faint aroma of Tomo‘s warm skin teased in Jared’s nostrils. Their gazes locked together in a contest of erotic will that suddenly threatened to give the older man a nervous tic.  
  
"Listen, Jared, I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity. It’s been a real honor," Tomo said sincerely.  
  
"Well, Tomo, you’re welcome," Jared answered smothering his smile. This was the last reserve and he knew it. Now, or never. After an amused pause, Jared finally gave the kid the opening he had been so blatantly waiting for.  
  
"Before you go, Tomo, was there anything else in your repertoire you wanted to show me?"  
  
Tomo took it as a challenge.  
  
Back inside, Jared began pondering the problem of all the little necessities he liked to have around in order to make a good fuck run smoothly. It was inconceivable they would not consummate their new partnership sometime in the next few minutes, but he’d hardly come prepared to seal that kind of a deal. Turned out he needn’t have worried, because Tomo had packed everything they could possible want the way any other guitarist would have brought along extra picks and strings. So, while Jared went into the control room to shut down the lights and the power in there, Tomo took the opportunity to choose his weapons.  
  
Jared stepped back and turned away from the console to find Tomo lounging against the doorway behind him. If he’d been expecting them to engage in any of the normal, minimal social preliminaries that were generally required, Tomo seemed willing to forego them on this occasion. The fingers of Tomo’s hand were already sliding into the waistband of his jeans, popping the top button open. There was something pleasantly knowing about the expression on his face, not at all the hardened smirk Jared had been half expecting. Undisciplined tendrils of dark hair hugged the curve of Tomo’s cheek, and a tiny, impatient frown was tugging at his brow. His lips compressed in a pout that was part snarl. Jared felt the undeniable pang of lust spreading downward from his gut. He advanced towards Tomo steadily until their hips were almost touching, his hands magnetically drawn to the margin of exposed skin below Tomo’s shirt. One of Tomo’s slow, teasing fingers traced lazily along Jared’s belt-line, then burrowed under it tugging him even closer.  
  
They were nearly eye to eye. Those ripe, full lips were opening and Jared could feel his pulsing arousal begin to strain against its denim confinement. A wet tongue tip snaked out and towards him, tickling firmly along the line of his mouth.  
  
When Jared drew away a bit, pulling his head back, Tomo seemed momentarily confused. He let his eyelids flutter down, sensing a miscalculation. Okay, so Jared was basically a below-the-waist kind of guy. Potentially a dangerous place from which to run your life, however, it was nothing he hadn’t handled before. Or couldn’t now. Quickly, Tomo adjusted his strategy and redirected his attentions. With anguishing slowness, his short, jagged nails dragged over the rough fabric bulging at Jared’s crotch, teasing what lay beneath with muffled sensation. When Jared issued a choked, involuntary grunt, Tomo moved swiftly to release him from his double-stitched, fly-fronted prison. Instantly, his hand meeting with hard, anxious flesh.  
  
For a long, drawn out moment, Jared lost himself in the sensuous caresses, until he felt Tomo pressing something small and solid into his hands. A tiny, unlabelled bottle, and a familiar flat packet. Thoughtfully, Tomo had already torn off one edge.  
  
The bottle contained a clear gel, which was precisely what Jared expected. The other item he tucked into a pocket, thinking it could wait for a bit yet while they played.  
  
But, Tomo had other ideas. The wet, pink end of his cock was protruding insistently above the top of his unbuttoned jeans. Taking the time to be sure Jared was watching, he ran his own open palm over it, sucking in a sharp breath through parted lips and making a lovely, playful display of himself. With his other hand, he tugged down his zipper and pushed the waist of his pants to his thighs. Then he turned his back on Jared and crossed his arms against the door frame to make a pillow for his head. His hips arched up enticingly as he spread his feet. Ready when you are. Jared noted how amused he seemed with his own antics, and then, he actually wiggled his ass.  
  
Jared stared down at the sight, smoldering and half-dumbfounded, fighting his full rolling boil. It was as if someone had thrown open the furnace door on his libido, and it was too much of an invitation to resist. In less than a heartbeat, that condom was back out of his pocket and snugged firmly in place. Tomo felt a pair of slick, greedy fingers groping at his hole, slathering lubricant everywhere.  
  
A jolt and a groan later Jared was buried inside of him, up to the hilt, mining for the gold. Christ almighty, how deep did he think he needed to go? Tomo squirmed uncomfortably and whimpered his objection, while Jared grabbed at his genitals to make him hold still. Not because he didn't know what he was doing, Tomo soon realized, but to improve his aim. He felt that first little zing of pleasure inside as Jared’s energetic pumping finally found his sweet spot. O-o-oh, pure bliss. Tomo arched back into Jared’s thrusts, listening to the labored grunting behind him with a self-satisfied smirk. Too bad they weren’t still recording. Heh.  
  
From the way Jared’s slippery hand was roughing up his aching cock with tense, jerky motions Tomo knew they were already on the short countdown. No real surprise since he’d spent more than half of their session posturing and gyrating and trying his damnedest to give Jared a hard on. Yeah, they’d waited all afternoon for this. Finally, it was time for the big, gratuitous bang. Tomo was very, very glad he had the door molding to hang on to when Jared suddenly danced up on his toes shuddering into him forcefully, his stiff, swollen dick throbbing and shaking relentlessly in Tomo’s ass, driving home its point.  
  
All that bumping and grinding in his butt accompanied by the spasmodic squeezing of Jared’s fingers clenching around his cock was more than enough to get him off. In one wild instant everything was hot, surging wetness, and Tomo found himself pulsing helplessly in Jared’s hand. Glancing down to evaluate the damage, he saw where he’d partially spattered the adjacent wall and dribbled into the carpet. Harsh, but good, he assessed. A deep, cleansing breath later he tried to straighten himself up cautiously under Jared’s inert weight, wondering what it would take to bring the other man back to the land of the living. Momentarily stunned by their rollicking pace and unrestrained outcome, Jared eventually responded by pulling back dazedly and sliding out of him, weary and wilting. Instantly, Tomo could feel the dull, overextended ache spreading around his butt hole. Damn, there was always a price to pay for a good one.  
  
He turned and slumped against the wall, watching Jared's tremulous hands peel off the wrinkled condom. While he had a minute to think, Tomo wanted to consider his next move carefully. So, when at last Jared had recovered his composure sufficiently to glance up and give him a tight, controlled look, the stare that Tomo returned was cool and insinuating; mocking Jared with its carnal energy and feline calm. Rattled, Jared realized Tomo wasn’t quite finished with him yet. An idea his other barely coherent thoughts tumbled with headlong over his baser instincts in an unbecomingly eager and disorderly rush.  
  
It wasn’t like that carpeted floor in the control room had never seen any action before, but Jared was starting to feel a little guilty for the sake of the studio’s owner--Shannon’s buddy--who was trusting them with everything, after all. With mind-numbing efficiency, Tomo had lured him down onto that scruffy indoor-outdoor, and there he lay flat on his back, stripped to his socks and a t-shirt. Wondering what in his wildest wet dreams was going to happen next.  
  
Perhaps too complacently, Jared had spread his legs at Tomo’s urging and watched, round-eyed and vaguely unsettled, as Tomo kneeled between them. This time, when Tomo put his tongue to work he recalled his former error, no kissing. He opted for frenching Jared’s belly button instead and worked his way down from there. His hair was just long enough to brush lightly over the tantalized skin of Jared’s abdomen, which flinched and tightened perceptibly. Jared’s exhausted, twitching cock tingled dully, but was still barely responsive. Nevertheless, he could feel his brain getting pleasantly, sensuously foggy again. Undaunted, Tomo breathed a warm, tickling sigh into the short, dark curls that fringed Jared’s groin, and at that, Jared gave a tiny gasp and reflexively jerked up his knees. Playfully, Tomo nipped the tender flesh along the inside of Jared’s thighs, watching that soft sleepy organ lolling next to his cheek rise back to life again, alert and exquisitely sensitive. With an expert's precision, Tomo flicked his tongue across its bare, delicate surface, swirling around the head and probing gently into the slit where he could still detect an aftertaste of his earlier success.  
  
Jared’s hips bucked nervously at this new, riskier attention. He arched up, having an almost painfully reaction in his hyper-stimulated state. A pair of strong hands pressed down firmly on his open thighs, holding him still and steady. Tomo’s mouth slid determinedly over Jared’s quivering shaft, being careful not to take him so deep that Jared would lose control, instead letting his tongue massage him with long, even strokes. Moving slowly and smoothly, he roamed along Jared underside, teasing over ridges and into shallow depressions. Jared’s head rolled back and he wailed anxiously. His first involuntary cry, Tomo noted with satisfaction. It was a very good sign. That, and the fact that Jared’s fingers were digging nearly uncontrollably into the back of his scalp.  
  
Tomo knew it would seem cruel when he just let go and sat back on his heels, but he had no intention of simply sucking Jared to climax like some good little whore. No. In fact, Tomo realized, they'd come to a decisive moment. Rocking his weight back onto the soles of his feet, he stood upright uncoiling himself to his full height and pulling his shirt off over his head in one smooth, graceful motion. Jared stared up at his pale chest and bronze button nipples, observing the way a rosy flush grew below Tomo’s collarbone and ascended all the way up his throat. Once Tomo had kicked off his shoes and slinked slowly and erotically out of his pants, Jared realized there was very little chance his _intellect_ was going to get to do any more of the decision-making today.  
  
There, at last, was that stupefied, lust-inebriated look Tomo had been waiting for, washing over Jared’s features and drowning out the noise of his otherwise razor-sharp good sense. Tomo planted his feet on either side of Jared’s hips and crouched down over him. His dark eyes fastened with near surgical precision onto Jared's clouded blue ones. Sliding his hands under the soft cotton jersey of Jared’s shirt, he push steadily upward stopping only when the hemline was tucked beneath Jared’s armpits. Then slowly, Tomo dragged an index finger vertically along the pale, smooth skin over Jared’s sternum until it rested directly above the location of his heart. He tapped lightly, as if expecting an awakening or startled response from the organ lying underneath.  
  
However, there was no sound between them beyond the shallow in and out of Jared’s breathing.  
  
Haltingly, Jared’s hands skimmed up the back of Tomo’s thighs, higher and higher until he’d taken firm possession of his tense, but pliant behind. Usually what Jared liked best in a hot piece of ass was symmetry, and continuity of line. A smooth, sensuous curve that connected in a sleek, unbroken rhythm to top of a guy’s thigh. A small crease of flesh tucking underneath the cleft, preferably situated along the innermost portion, was perfectly acceptable, too. Desirable, even. And the way a guy moved was very important. Tomo had a way of moving that put an emphasis on all the right details. He’d demonstrated it lavishly throughout the afternoon, but now he seemed unnaturally quiet and motionless. Jared let his fingers creep, curiously over the soft contours and sensitive places all along Tomo’s form until he’d elicited a barely smothered sound. Much better. Sweet, lusting anguish played vividly over Tomo’s face, and those disturbing black eyes that were trying to devour Jared finally fluttered closed.  
  
Staring down his own chest, Jared spied Tomo’s rosy erection displayed between his thighs like a proud cockatiel. Or, a weapon that might go off at any moment. His balls were resting on the tense muscles of Jared’s abdomen, cozy in their supple, sueded pouch. Little pulses running up Tomo’s shaft were forcing clear drops of liquid out the tiny opening in its shinning, shivering tip, and the closer Jared’s fingers teased towards the gaping space between Tomo’s butt cheeks, the wetter things were getting there. More ragged sounds and Tomo’s incomprehensible whispering ignited the air between them. Jared thought his words sounded like pleading, like the prayers of the importunate. Tomo lowered himself onto Jared, chest to chest, letting their cocks rub together between their slick, fevered bodies. Hot breath poured out over Jared’s chin and lips as Tomo’s mouth formed a deep, dark circle uttering a profoundly sensuous, "oh-h…"  
  
With his teeth, Jared grabbed onto the tender, fleshy lower lip brushing flush with his own. His tongue plunged recklessly into the depths and darkness. Insatiable heat and the returning thrust of Tomo’s tongue greeted him, twisting and wrestling with him and sucking him in. In an instant, all Jared’s thoughts were focused into one burning obsession, the rapacious and overwhelming urge to be inside his new guitarist, fore and aft. His fingertips dug restlessly at Tomo’s posterior. Just checking. Still smooth and slippery enough that, with a little spit, the new mission would be a go.  
  
That one small detail attended to, Tomo required no further guidance or coaching from Jared. Here, good god, was a guy who knew the drill.  
  
After that, everything else had gotten kind of rushed and blurry when Jared suddenly felt Tomo reach around and grab his dick, positioning him roughly. His hips snapped off the floor ramming up and in. Possibly, Jared might have heard some vocal commotion which accompanied his action, but he wasn’t entirely clear about that because his senses were imploding. Without the condom between them, Tomo’s tight passage connected deeply with Jared’s runaway reaction. It was like something else was happening with them beyond their combined heat and darkness; something more than the delight of a smooth, silken touch. Some unrelenting hunger was pushing and pulling and tearing at them. Their pulses were pounding from the burning tease and brutal fusion of their unfettered mutual needs. Jared shuddered deeply, and mindlessly burrowed in.  
  
Two pairs of hands grasped at each other’s heads, lips and tongues grinding together; soft inner cheeks, sharp teeth, and tender tongue tips flicking at one another. Below, a taunting threatened withdraw. Above, a demand for unconditional surrender. Jared knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. He groped for Tomo’s cock, giving him a punctuated series of short, desperate strokes. Come on, come on. Tomo’s hips were coiling and rolling on him like a turbulent tide; like a firestorm descending on dry tinder with ever-quickening thrusts. With Jared’s every motion Tomo groaned in escalating abandon. Deep inside, Jared could feel himself being squeezed and smothered by tight muscles suffering and begging for their release.  
  
When it came, it erupted in torrents of noise and wetness. Tomo was writhing and spilling all over him. Mouths still pressed together, his cries echoed in the vault of Jared’s throat. Jared’s body jerked helplessly in response emptying itself repeatedly, wringing him out completely. His thoughts tumbled along deliriously, almost senselessly. in the wake of his orgasm. In a near total absense of oxygen, he struggled against his straining lungs to breathe. Just breathe.  
  
Then there was nothing. For a long, trance-like moment, Jared’s eyes wandered aimlessly over the ceiling. His axis of reality was tilting precariously and his thinking was disjointed, but he felt deliciously sated. If somewhat drained. It was almost as if... his very lifeblood had seeped away into the core of the soundproof flooring beneath him. Best. Sex. Ever.

Staring down from above, Tomo’s face practically filled Jared’s entire field of vision, hovering angelically and wearing a gentle, beatific smile. He stroked Jared’s hair lovingly, attentively noting how all the vital forces seemed to have all gone out of him. Dude, he thought with sinister amusement, you want ’em back? You know who to ask, and where to find ’em.  
  
"Well, I gotta take off for my sister’s place," Tomo murmured sweetly as he rolled away, "or I’ll be late for dinner."  
  
"You’re leaving?" Jared pushed himself up on one elbow, feeling suddenly chilled and dizzy. Distantly, he heard his own voice whining like an abandoned child’s.  
  
"Yeah." Tomo’s self-satisfied smile turned back toward Jared. "But, you’ll call me tomorrow, right?" He tugged up his jeans and once again turned away from the hazy blue eyes that were anxiously following his every move.  
  
"Yes, I'll call," said Jared. His weak gaze trailed after Tomo as he strode from the room and disappeared. Jared struggled to raise himself to a sitting position. Fuck, it was so hard to think clearly.  
  
Outside, a bright, sharp sunset was casting long, odd-angled shadows over the parking lot. Reluctantly, Jared helped Tomo heaved the last of his gear into the trunk of an impersonal red, rented Focus. It seemed to soon to be parting already. He turned to face the other man. Oddly, the shadows and the angles of his face seemed all wrong. For a moment, Jared had the uneasy sensation of being little more than a spectator in the film version of his own life, observing an obscure scene from a bad vantage point. He was acutely aware that the smoke and fog of their overheated couplings still hadn’t lifted when Tomo slipped his arms around him, and pressed his mouth securely and possessively over Jared’s own.  
  
Willingly, Jared opened his lips, waiting and expecting to feel the firm, forceful invasion of Tomo’s tongue, but it did not come. Tomo stepped back, leaving nothing but the cool, moisture of his kiss evaporating in the late afternoon air. With a confident grin, Tomo tossed himself into the front seat of his rental car, and turned the key in the ignition. The little hybrid engine hummed reliably to life.  
  
Jared smiled and waved uncertainly. It was a hollow, shaky gesture. A single thought was twisting inside of him; don’t go. He felt shocky. As if a huge piece of himself was tearing away and driving off with Tomo. Sunlight sparked on a quick dash of glass and chrome as Tomo popped the Focus into gear, and sped swiftly out of sight.  
  
First thing when he got home, Jared decided, he needed to call Shannon. Just to hear his brother's voice. And ask him to come over. Yeah, good idea. Thinking that, Jared found himself starting to feel a little better already, a little clearer and a bit more relaxed.

Exhaling a quaking sigh, he turned around to go back and lock up the building still wrestling with his odd sense of vacantness, before heading out himself into a long, empty night.  
  
\--stop--


	2. Fall Apart, Start Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authorship: Polydeuces  
> Summary: Tomo has joined 30 Seconds to Mars, and he’s turning out to be quite a force to be reckoned with. Out on tour, Matt finds the changing environment within the band disturbing and unsettling, in more ways than one.

_"So if you do not know the plans of your competitors,  
you cannot make informed alliances."  
  
"To plunder a locality, divide up your troops.  
To expand your territory, divide the spoils.  
Act after having made assessments.  
The one who first knows the measures of far and near wins  
\-- this is the rule of armed struggle."_  
  
\-  The Art of War "VII: Armed Struggle," Sun Tzu

  
*********

  
Their dressing room wasn’t really much more than a converted corner in the maintenance workshop. An inconvenient rat hole of space lost in the bowels of a dilapidated old downtown building, and much too far from the stage. A lot of times it was like this at older clubs, but if it was a good venue nobody cared. Nobody complained. They made do, like the hundreds of other hopeful, ambitious bands that had come before them, hunkering down and telling themselves it was all about the music not the creature comforts. Never knowing when the next real creature, furred or carapaced, might scamper across their feet.  
  
When Matt walked in on them, Tomo was standing in front of the mirror with his back to the doorway while Jared dithered around him playfully, trying to talk him into the eye make-up, like always. Matt could see Jared was feeling back in control again. His lips were tilted in a slightly remote and devious grin, his tone laconic and amused. Just a little black kohl around the eyes, he was saying, sliding a hand under Tomo’s chin. It wasn’t so much what Jared was doing as the way he was doing it that irked Matt, who by now had ceased to be surprised at his own unexpected moments of irritation. Gruffly, he tugged on the fresh shirt he had come in for and walked back out again. Pissed, and ruminating over his persistently gloomy thoughts, he found himself a shadowed corner to hide in and took a moment to restore his inner calm.  
  
These days, Matt was finding it difficult to feel very centered where Jared was concerned. Of all the changes since Solon, none had been harder than this one. Mostly because of the way their subliminal thread of communication had suddenly snapped and unraveled. And even more so now that the music had become like a life and death struggle between them. It was almost too easy to blame Tomo, so Matt was trying really hard not to, but... Daily, he sorted around inside himself searching for that spark, that sense of oneness with Jared, which for a long time had burned so fiercely within him. It was nearly gone. Most nights, playing with the band was turning into something more like a contest of wills than the unifying force it had once been.  
  
The show went well, though, in spite of everything. The fans never let them down. Afterwards, they’d all come crowding around eagerly, some of their faces as familiar now as family and old friends. Tomo’s gifts with a guitar were undeniable, and he was certainly getting his fair share of curious attention. Matt wanted to like him. Wished he could stop feeling aggravated long enough to explore his own cautious affection for Tomo's uncertain smile, and those wary brown eyes Matt occasionally caught coming to rest on him. But, there he was again with Jared glued to his side, facing off with a handful of over-anxious girls. The sound of animated giggling pressed in on them as Matt watched, seized by an all too familiar ache. Tomo was staring into the crush of flushed faces surrounding him with a mixture of awe and alarm. Jared to the rescue.  
  
Suddenly, there was the not-so-subtle nudge of an elbow in his ribs as Shannon appeared standing next to him. Leaning into him, really.  
  
"I’m starving. Wanna go get something to eat?"  
  
Perfect timing. They wandered off to one of those all night places that serves breakfast twenty-four seven. When you’re on the road with a committed vegetarian that’s always a good thing to look for, because he can order the omelet for dinner while the carnivores are consuming mother hen.  
  
Shannon’s fork was raking at the uneaten remains of pancakes strewn across his plate. Matt wondered how hungry he had really been when he’d used that excuse as the pretense to bring them here. Small and out of the way, the little diner was nearly devoid of patrons, save for a few weary truckers and some boisterous post-concert customers seated up front. No one seemed to recognize them. They’d sequestered themselves secretively in a corner booth near the back, and cloaked in the artificial privacy of anonymous public places, their conversation started and stalled in fits.  
  
"Maybe I just should have… slept with him," Matt blurted in a terse, bewildered undertone. At the last instant he’d substituted a subtler word for the more frank one in his mind. A moment later, he regretted saying anything at all. Jesus Christ, how could you make a remark like that to another guy about his own brother? His eyes flickered up at Shannon uncertainly, but the other man seemed far away in his thoughts, and unconcerned.  
  
"Well, Matt," Shannon replied, proving he really had been listening, "I never thought it was about that. Not that you couldn’t have. It still would’ve been okay. But I didn’t really think it was about that." He paused and returned Matt’s gaze. "Did you?"  
  
Matt didn’t answer. The truth was he had no fucking idea what it was about. Not at this point. No fucking clue whatsoever. It could have been about almost anything, he supposed. Everything, and nothing. And yeah, maybe even about sex. The kind you never have. It just floats around in the air between you, like a possibility, an unrealized potential. Whatever. Jared had never asked, and Matt had never offered. Maybe that was a mistake. He found himself trying to express this fetal idea to Shannon, who sat there across from him quietly, watching his face intently.  
  
"A thing like that has got some real power, Shan, let me tell you," Matt whispered.  
  
At that, Shannon’s expression closed over swiftly leaving nothing but an unmarked façade as implacable as stone. This was Solon all over again. Jared had always been the sole member among the four of them who could wield the power, but it took all of them together to raise it. Matt knew only too well Shannon’s attitude on the subject could be harsh. From Shannon’s limited, but resolute perspective, there was no place for divided loyalties in the band, or for fractures in their foundation.  
  
"If it’s power," said Shannon cautiously, "then you can use it. You just have to find a way."  
  
Matt nodded mutely, hardly grasping what Shannon was suggesting. There was nothing in his mind but confusion. Shannon slid out of the booth and tossed a handful of bills on the table, then pulled Matt along behind him out into the street.  
  
In silence, they made their way to the hotel on foot, in the dark. They were still in California. Close to their next venue, and too far north to think about heading home, they'd decided to book rooms for the night. Tomorrow they'd be on their way to Oregon, but tonight there would be long, hot showers and real mattresses instead of bunks on the bus. In the morning they’d take the time to do laundry, and pick up a few groceries, and do all the other things people never, ever envision themselves doing when they dream of being in a rock band and living a carefree life on the road.  
  
As they approached the parking lot they could hear Jared and Tomo swearing enthusiastically and laughing at each other while kicking a soda can back and forth between them. It was some sort of competitive game. Two other young men had joined them. A couple of easy-going guys familiar to Matt from among the many who often hung around to help them with their equipment after a show. Not roadies exactly, but at some point they’d fallen under the spell of Jared’s charm and his tall tales about a life in rock ’n’ roll. Like all the others, they were now more or less permanently stuck to his adhesive personal magnetism. Any other night Matt might have found it amusing. Tonight he just wanted to get to bed.  
  
He found his room small and functional, but the walls were thin. Standing by the foot of a standard double, he could hear the muffled rumble of the TV next door, a ghostly distorted sound managing to penetrate its way through steel frame and drywall. A moment from now, he knew the rise and fall of its meaningless hum would be lulling him to sleep. He shut off the light.  
  
Blackness surrounded him momentarily while his eyes adjusted. Hs pupils dilated automatically in response to the dark. A few slender arrows of light from the parking lot were sneaking in around the edges of the window drapery, like guardians against the blindness of a night in an unfamiliar room. With a sigh, he fell gratefully into the pile of pillows and blankets, but before there was even enough time to get himself properly settled, he spied a shadow outside passing through those luminous sentries, and there was a tap on his door.  
  
Probably Shannon. Sighing, and tossing back the covers, he lumbered up again and went to answer the summons dressed in nothing but his shorts.  
  
"Jared?"  
  
Barefoot, shower-damp, wearing only a beat up pair of black sweatpants, he crowded up to the doorframe and stared into the darkness beyond Matt's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Matt." Jared hesitated. "You alone?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
Jared nodded, apparently satisfied with the response. "Let me in a minute."  
  
Matt shuffled back and held the door open for him, quickly taking note of the look on Jared’s face as he squeezed past. It was a comfortingly familiar one. A mixture of a determined frown and queasy apprehension that Matt recognized immediately as the same expression Jared always wore whenever he needed him for something. Jared found it almost impossible to admit that he had needs. Which did nothing to alter the fact that he did, it just made his needs that much harder to deal with. So, Matt thought wearily, not everything between them had changed after all.  
  
"Wha’s up, Jay?" The door whispered shut behind him.  
  
"We need to talk." Jared’s eyes wandered over the room carelessly, not meeting with Matt’s inquiring ones.  
  
Spoken just like my ex-girlfriend, Matt cringed. Grimly, he closed his mind to the memory.  
  
"’Kay," he grunted. After his dinner with Shannon, Matt doubted more talk was what the situation really called for. But whatever. He planted his feet in a comfortable stance and got ready to wait patiently.  
  
Sometimes, in Jared’s opinion, Matt's simple ability to wait quietly was his greatest virtue. Other times, it got on his nerves. Once in a moment of acute frustration over Matt’s implacable stoicism, Jared had accused him of being "stubborn." Which was only fair since Matt had been known to bristle at Jared’s "singlemindedness" on occasion. Tonight, though, Matt’s silence only seemed to be adding to Jared’s anxiety.  
  
"It’s been rough between us lately," Jared began nervously.  
  
"Well, that’s bound to happen now and then, don’t you think?" Matt answered carefully. He knew he was minimizing this thing with Tomo, and wondered why. They needed to have it out.  
  
"You disappeared after the concert tonight." Jared’s voice was vaguely accusatory.  
  
"We just went to get something to eat." What was wrong with that? Even Matt heard the edgy self-justification in his reply, though. Wait. Was this about Tomo, or was this gonna be something about Shannon?  
  
"What did he say to you?" Again, there was that anxiety and mistrust.  
  
"Oh, well," Matt ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think clearly and not sound evasive. "We talked about a lot of stuff." What was going on here?  
  
Jared was actively chewing on his bottom lip. Not once had his gaze met Matt’s eyes.  
  
"I can’t lose him, Matt." Jared’s frown deepened. His confrontive tone almost entirely concealed a fragile note of desperation. Almost.  
  
Abruptly, Matt’s disorderly confusion organized itself into a slightly clearer picture, and all at once he thought he saw the focal point. When Jared had asked him, "are you alone" was he thinking maybe _Shannon_ was here with him? Jesus.  
  
"I don’t think it’ll come to that." Matt cleared his throat quietly. He’d been so caught up in his own funk over Tomo, he’d never given any thought to what this was doing to the brothers. And what exactly did Jared mean, "lose him"?  
  
"I didn’t do this to screw up our collaboration. It just sort of happened."  
  
"No, I know that," nodded Matt, who an hour ago knew nothing of the sort. For some unfathomable reason random memories of Solon were suddenly crowding into his thoughts, all screaming for his attention. Along with a lot of other half-forgotten images of Jared and Shannon, and... what the hell? Had Jared and Solon been into something together? Something that had to do with Shannon? Fuck. Absolutely there was such a thing as too much information. Leave it alone, Wachter. Let it go.  
  
Jared had turned away from him with a lost and faraway look. Matt couldn’t even be sure he’d heard the last thing he'd said. "It’s okay, Jay. Well, find a way to fix it," he told him, but damned if he knew how. Hesitantly, he reached out to put an arm around Jared’s shoulders, uncertain whether or not this small act of comfort would be accepted, and that's when it happened. The instant bare skin encountered bare skin, Matt experienced a blaze of clarity.  
  
It wasn’t so much like reading Jared’s mind as knowing the state of it. As if he could sense Jared’s thoughts through the simple contact of their physical touch. Without another word, Jared stepped back and out from under Matt's arm, tugging at the drawstring of his pants. The soft fabric slid down over his hips and puddled on the floor.  
  
"Come to bed with me," he said quietly.  
  
Matt blinked. He felt the sudden need to shuffle his feet indecisively; a twitch in his fingers longed to reach up and brush the itch at the end of his nose. A thousand nerve endings fired off their desperate commands for gestures or words that would forestall the next inevitable action. Anything that would force a pause for a moment’s careful consideration.

But, nothing moved except his eyelids.  
  
Intense as Jared’s feelings were, it was not arousal that he was experiencing, not yet. That much was obvious. He’d stepped over to the bed and crawled in, never once letting his agitated stare meet up with Matt’s concentrated one. A flood of unasked and unanswered questions filled the silence between them.  
  
Then, predictably perhaps, Matt found himself walking towards the bed, his indecision jerked into motion by the autopilot that always responded instantly to Jared’s demands.  
  
He wondered if he was supposed to turn out the light, or not.  
  
Ambivalently, Matt discarded his last article of clothing, tossing his shorts onto the floor next to Jared’s sweats. For the second time that night he quenched the lamp, and was enveloped in darkness. It was true. Shannon was right. There was vast and vibrant power here at his disposal. Momentarily, he envisioned it as a living thing twisting fitfully in Jared’s grasp, not entirely under his or anyone else’s control.  
  
He slid between the cool sheets while Jared grabbed at him anxiously. The hot, fiery scrape of’his calloused fingers was setting off little storms of excitement in the wake of their erratic wandering over Matt’s exposed flesh.  
  
"Sh-h." Matt folded his arms around Jared, pulling him against his chest; wanting to be comforting, while trying to hold his own sexual response in check. And wishing to god he knew more about what he was supposed to be doing, precisely. Soothingly, he ran a firm hand down Jared’s back and then over his rippled abdomen, finally letting it come to rest between Jared’s legs. Immediately, Jared’s squirming and jittering ceased. Matt felt a surge of growth and heat against his palm. Their erotic communication was electric. A climactic ache echoed potently in Matt’s groin, and his cock rumbled to life like a sleeping dragon.  
  
Immediately, Jared arched into Matt and rolled with him. Emphatic and demanding, he thrashed beneath him like a man in a fever that wouldn't break. Where his cheek had molded itself against the curve of Matt’s neck there was a thin, spreading warmth and wetness that slowly he realized were from tears shed in unbearable silence.  
  
"I need you," he whispered fiercely, in a voice colored with more grief than lust.  
  
Matt pressed into Jared with a heightening sense of the need to find his destination. Desperately, Jared’s thighs gripped around Matt’s sides while the other man’s diligent fingers probed doubtfully underneath him. What if in his ignorance he hurt Jared? Not a thing either of them wanted, when it was clear Jared had come to him already hurting and in pain. Matt’s mind weighed heavily on his limited choices, wondering if it was still possible to say, "no." Then, sliding his hand carefully into Jared’s deepest, most intimate recess, his touch unexpectedly encountered more warmth and wetness. Smooth and slick and ready. Jared had come prepared.  
  
All his choices had been made for him, or so it seemed, Matt reflected calmly. Resolved, he took Jared’s hips in his hands and positioned him gently, thoughtfully caressing the tight muscles along the back of Jared’s thighs. He heard a soft gasp of anticipation, and pushed himself past the last bit of resistance with care. Jared’s low, anguished moan and the sound of rustling sheets floated over them in the darkness. Cautiously, Matt thrust himself forward into the new sensation of being snug and welcome deep inside of Jared body. His tentativeness disappeared. Some things about your fate were unavoidable, he was realizing. It was better to simply accept the inevitable, come what may. He watched Jared’s transfixed expression placidly as they descended into his passion together. It was a lot like joining with your _moira,_ Matt was thinking. Joining, and freefalling into the arms of le petit mort. The little death.  
  
  
\---------  
  
Damn it, Tomo was scowling. He should have known it was going to take more than that one fateful afternoon to control someone like Jared. A commodity like Jared was a rare thing indeed. Ever since the first time Tomo had laid eyes on him, he’d dreamed of owning him. Feeling that power, that writhing monster, come to heel under his hand. But, always he could sense the presence and pressure of his competition surrounding him; invisible, dangerous, close. Carefully concealing itself from him, hiding in the ethers with a dark and subtle veil of perfectly honed craft.  
  
Well, others may have more experience in such matters, but what Tomo lacked in finesse he made up for in cockiness. And now that he'd had him, Jared, he thought, you are mine. The murky brown eyes dilated and narrowed in determination. He was not about to lose his prize. The trick was to keep the beast well sated and purring contentedly. That had been the plan  
  
Only tonight, while playing their most recent show together, it seemed as if everything about the set and their whole creative partnership had gone wrong. Terribly. Of course, what sounded awful to a perfectionist like Tomo, and what sounded bad to their deliriously screeching audience, were probably two entirely different things. Perhaps, Shannon had suggested, he was being too hard on himself. Still, the music was the key. He could not afford dissonance. He’d tried to signal Jared with his eyes that it was time to renew their connection, but Jared's response to him had been opaque and dismissive.  
  
"You had an off night. It happens," he’d shrugged, and then disappeared with Shannon after the signing was over. That left Tomo alone with Matt, and a deep, fulminating sense of frustration.  
  
Time to make a new plan.  
  
Never in a million lifetimes would he have guessed Jared would actually make a move on Matt. That relationship had seemed as old and fixed in its sterile orbit as the cosmos itself. Now, in one brilliant move, Jared had pulled them all into this unholy trinity positioning himself at its apex, leaving Matt and Tomo to face off over him, snarling and snapping at each other like a pair of hungry wolves. With that unhappy thought, Tomo’s expression soured perceptibly. It seemed Jared had played these games before.  
  
Moodily, he watched Matt moving methodically through the narrow confines of the bus, putting away stray objects and cleaning up the remains of a meal. Batten down the hatches, and take out the garbage; the same routine they always followed every time they got ready to get back on the road.  
  
"Where were they going? Did they say?"  
  
Matt shook his head without looking up. He glanced into their tiny bathroom and began gathering up loose articles lying around the sink. Once they were moving, a tight turn would quickly transform anything not stowed away into a flying projectile.  
  
"How long do you think they’ll be gone?" Tomo got to his feet and began following him, standing in the open space in front of the door.  
  
"Well, we need to get going by midnight. Jared’s pretty good about that sort of thing. Staying on schedule. Here." Matt turned and handed Tomo a razor crusted with old soap and some other shaving paraphernalia.  
  
"Find a place for these." His lopsided grin quirked to the left. "You don’t even use them," he observed. His eyes, direct and smiling, settled on Tomo’s troubled brown ones.  
  
Tomo peered back into the blue-gray depths, trying to measure the amount of fight in the man. Deep in those wells of resolve he read a will like iron, but little aggression. Interesting. There was something else stirring in there as well, Tomo noted. Absentmindedly, he ran his free hand over his scruffy, stubbled chin. Huh. Maybe he should have cleaned himself up a little better.  
  
Matt returned Tomo’s openly assessing look congenially. It was easy for him to feel magnanimous tonight, having successfully leveled their playing field over Jared the night before. For just a second, hidden within the dark, smoky pools of Tomo’s gaze, Matt imagined he saw the tension and anxiety of a child suddenly confronted with some strange new babysitter. When’s Daddy coming home? However, even while Matt was amusing himself with the idea, he recognized it as a dangerous one. Tomo was not a man to be underestimated. Belatedly, he realized that was one of the things Shannon had been trying to hint to him about all along. Still, he could feel his attitude towards their guitarist softening, and there was an odd fluttering sensation happening under his breast bone while in the grip of that doe-eyed stare.  
  
"Back up," Matt muttered a bit gruffly, gently pushing him out of the way and moving towards the front of the bus.  
  
Tomo could have followed him, but he decided against it, opting instead to give the tumblers in his brain a moment to click into place. Matt was seducible. That much was certain. Tomo’s sensual awareness was rarely mistaken about a thing like that. But, nevertheless, why should he do it? What impulse was animating that familiar, compelling carnal urge in his gut?  
  
A tiny frown of concentration puckered his brow as he wandered down the narrow aisle passed their bunks, on his way back to the lounge. Well, Matt had something Tomo wanted. Namely Jared. And, Matt wasn’t about to just give him back willingly unless…  
  
Matt decided Jared wasn’t what he really wanted anymore.  
  
So. There was the flaw in Jared’s plan. Tomo could see it plainly. Jared could only control both Matt and Tomo so long as each of them remained convinced that Jared was the prize they were both after. The one they were willing to fight over and compete for. He and Matt would spend the rest of the tour -- every waking hour and no doubt half their sleeping ones, too -- struggling with each other to be first in Jared’s affections. Making them slaves and victims to their own aggressive desires. Meanwhile, Jared would be left holding the reigns on all that power, and be… free, to do with it as he pleased.  
  
Well. Tomo’s lips curled in a mute, predatory smile. Two could play at this game.  
  
He walked stealthily to the switch on the far wall and extinguished the lights. From the parking lot outside a pale, bloodless fluorescent glow streamed in through the bus’ high, tinted windows. Inside, the ambiance was a little like the mystique of looking at a grainy old photograph. Perfect. Tomo peeled his tee shirt off over his head just in time for Matt to see it as he emerged from the short passageway.  
  
"What happened…"  
  
Tomo lowered his arms slowly, letting the sculptured contours of his back undulate in the cold, gray light.  
  
"…to the lights," Matt finished lamely.  
  
Tomo turned and gazed fixedly at him with a barely contained feral hunger. My, my, Mr. Wachter. Where to begin?  
  
Truthfully, it hardly mattered. He approached Matt gingerly, eyes reflecting a question, his bare feet creeping soundlessly like cat paws over the rough, carpeted floor. When he was near enough to feel the taller man’s warmth and the stir of breath on his skin, Tomo stopped, just short of touching him. The small interval of space between them crackled with the static of Tomo’s intentions, waiting presciently for Matt’s response.  
  
Confounded, conflicted hesitation rolled off of Matt in waves that Tomo imagined he could actually feel. As if a tide was rushing in all around them until, at last, they were both grasped firmly in its undertow.  
  
"What are we doing?" Matt murmured. Not literally what. Tomo caught the subtle sound of concern filtering through his question. Like, Tomo, what are you thinking? Are you sure?  
  
I’m thinking you are mine now. Yes, I’m sure. It’s just a matter of how to get started. He wondered briefly if Matt imagined himself to be a moral man, voicing an ethical concern. Cute. But then again, one false move, Tomo realized, and his fragile spell might fly apart like milkweed on the wind.  
  
No, he decide. Nothing about Matt’s solid presence suggested fragility. Even though his eyes, shrouded in the shadow of his brows, were hidden from Tomo’s scrutiny, and for the moment Matt’s secrets were his own, it didn’t really matter. His head was dipping lower over Tomo’s, and slowly, hypnotically, his curious sensitive mouth was being drawn toward his band mate's warm inviting one. When finally they touched, all hesitation ceased. Matt’s fingers brushed across Tomo’s shoulders, sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair. Their breath mingled gently as their lips parted, and Tomo leaned in receptively. A tender tongue tip grazed teasingly over the outer surface of his mouth, then delved into its mystery. Strangely, hauntingly, a strong unfamiliar emotion stirred in Tomo’s chest, rising like a stream of bubbles through still water, rushing for the surface. He wondered at it briefly. Then their kiss deepened demanding his full attention, and the feeling passed.  
  
So. Matt was a romantic, he was thinking while swaying gently in the other man's embrace. How about that? Tomo’s mouth curved in a knowing smile. He pulled away from the kiss playfully and slipped his hands under Matt’s shirt.  
  
The close scent of Tomo’s skin was exhilarating and familiar. Matt inhaled his essence like a drug. The light tang and salty sweat that flooded his senses was distinctly that of a man. There were lots of days when Matt thought living on the bus was like life in a lion’s den, and sometimes it smelled that way, too--heavy with the vibrant, pungent aroma of males. Over time he found he’d gotten used to all their humble animal odors, and after a while even considered them comforting. Eventually, it just smelled like ‘home’.  
  
Tomo’s cheek was coarse as sandpaper and his taste was sharp, but not unpleasant. Matt walked him backwards, slowly, making a halting, distracted path across the lounge. They stopped when the back of Tomo’s leg hit the upholstered bench of their couch, a cozy right-angled built-in, that took up almost two entire walls of cramped space. Matt’s strong hands were on Tomo’s chest pushing him down until he was half sitting, half lying against the plush cushions. He kneeled on the floor between Tomo’s knees and began working at opening the waist of Tomo’s jeans, tugging purposefully.  
  
"Lift up."  
  
Tomo did as he was told, letting Matt take the lead. A gratifying tingle of excitement passed through him watching his band mate become increasingly invested in their coupling. It was a strategy Tomo rarely used, and one he had nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed. He stared in fascination at the intensity of Matt’s focus and concentration. Right now, the other man was struggling to get Tomo’s pants down over his hips.  
  
"Could you wear these things any tighter?" Matt grumbled, feigning exasperation around a poorly concealed smirk.  
  
Tomo’s eyes lit up teasingly. "I don’t think so," he grinned back.  
  
Matt chuckled softly, grabbing Tomo’s lips again with his own, nibbling at the tender flesh which plumped and puckered tightly, refusing him entry. Damn, the little tease. Sexy bastard. Together, with some wriggling and pulling, they got Tomo out of the last of his clothes.  
  
Much better. Matt pulled Tomo towards him, hips first, his hand roaming attentively over Tomo’s rapidly swelling erection. Rippling pulses of pleasure ran all along his growing shaft. With a happy sigh, Tomo wrapped his legs around Matt, and rubbed his sensitive inner thighs against the rough denim of his jeans, reveling for a moment in the sensuality of being completely naked.  
  
"You next," he said, fingers plucking at Matt’s shirt, and trying to ease it up over his head.  
  
Every part of the human body, Tomo mused, every inch of its smooth surface held subtle secrets. Every mound and curve and cleft yielded up unique pleasures all its own. Tomo had made it his business to know each one of them. While Matt stood and squirmed out of his clothes, Tomo studied him appreciatively, taking in the awkward twisting dance with his eyes. Making it his possession. At last Matt had tossed all his garments aside and faced Tomo clad only in the silvery, mist-like light bleeding in through the windows, and the muted shadowy scrawl of his tattoos.  
  
The joyful little secret of Matt’s tattoos was how the script on his abdomen arced over his belly and continued scrolling down across his hipbones. Meanwhile, its other hidden details proceeded lower still. Of course, Tomo had seen all of this before, but really, he was thinking, you couldn’t begin to appreciate the full aesthetic impact until you’d had a chance to observe the thing with Matt’s impressive member rising before it at full staff. Tomo chuckled to himself and leaned forward, settling his lips warmly over the sensitive end of Matt’s cock, and wrapping the fingers of one hand snugly around the base.  
  
He felt Matt’s knees lurch and heard a sharp, smothered, "Ah!" of surprise above him. Yeah, I didn’t think this was anything Jared was likely to do for you. Reaching around behind him, Tomo grabbed a handful of Matt’s butt and pulled him closer. His tongue began creeping around in business-like fashion, searching for any telltale reaction that would give away the location of a particularly responsive spot. His listened to the sounds of erratic breathing gasping and grunting overhead in the semi-dark. As far as he could tell, Matt’s entire dick was one huge erogenous hot zone. Trembling fingers were curling in Tomo’s hair. They traced a path over his busy hand and then brushed along his cheek, finally cupping under his chin.  
  
Slowly, Tomo slid his mouth off and released him, lying back against the couch on one lazy elbow. "Just between you and me," he offered, glancing upwards, "I think guys are the only ones who really understand how to do that sort of thing."  
  
Matt sank down on his knees, crouching over Tomo’s reclining form.  
  
"Uh-hnn," he groaned.  
  
Okay, that’s enough of that, Tomo realized. Matt’s eyes were close enough to his own that he could read the slightly dazed expression there. Not that he seemed displeased, but he did look a little woozy. The plan was to get him cheerfully addicted, not turn him into a complete sex zombie, Tomo reminded himself curtly. Romantic. Think romantic.  
  
Matt was nuzzling his neck in earnest and stroking the flat of his fingers over Tomo’s chest, toying with his nipples. A surge of excitement throbbed between Tomo’s legs and instinctively he arched up against Matt‘s groin. For the next few moments their cocks slid together in a heated frenzy of first contact, until Tomo’s hand groped stealthily down between their bodies. Matt’s balls hung as impressively as the rest of him. Tomo palmed and explored and cradled them curiously, then teased and tugged at Matt’s pubic hair--an unkempt, overgrown garden of earthly delights. When Matt’s low moan rumbled at the base of Tomo’s throat, he knew it was going to be soon. Personally, he was finding Matt’s heightened state of arousal highly contagious. The smoldering in his belly erupted into a full raging burn.  
  
Their bodies came together again in a wet heat, already slick and ready. Tomo locked his ankles together over Matt’s back and felt some anxious fumbling and searching going on around his hole. That massive cock was poking at him, leaving its slippery dribble behind. A tentative finger probed at his eager, twitching entrance.  
  
Yes, yes, yes you’re in the right spot just do it do it do it…  
  
"Are you gonna be okay?" The question lingered in the air a moment before Tomo registered it. It was staggering, really, the very idea that Matt was able to stop himself long enough to consider such a thing as his comfort.  
  
"I can get us something to make it easier," Tomo said taking a deep breath to clear his head and steady himself. "The up side is it’ll definitely be a lot more fun. The down side is you’ll have to let me get up a minute."  
  
"No, it’s okay. I have something." Sheepishly, Matt produced a small tube of lubricant, fished from the pocket of his cast-off pants.  
  
Surprised, Tomo took it from him and then froze in astonishment. Even in the dim light, he recognized the label. It was _Jared’s._  
  
"I grabbed it from the bunks on my way back here," Matt confessed.  
  
There was no response from Tomo, other than dumbfounded silence.  
  
Matt squirmed uncomfortably as Tomo’s stillness continued for several long, uncertain seconds. "I watched him put it away this morning," he started to explain. Okay, maybe stealing Jared's lube so they could cheat on him together was a bit too much even for Tomo. "I wasn’t sure, if you wanted… but, I thought…"  
  
"Matthew, you astonish me," Tomo responded dryly, flipping open the top.  
  
He applied the lube to himself generously and deeply, sighing and flexing his hips. Part instructional demonstration, and part erotic display. Surprisingly, perhaps, Matt turned out to be a quick student. A grumpy voice in the back of Tomo’s mind whispered disparagingly that probably not all the material in the lesson plan was necessarily new. Resolutely, he pushed his jealousy aside. He couldn't afford it. It was something he'd have to contemplate later. Besides, right now Matt’s inquisitive touch was tormenting him so sweetly, there was little else he could think about besides that.  
  
Their wet sounds and gentle rocking grew more feverish. Tomo ached for the feeling of something more substantial inside him than Matt’s finger. He coiled his hips and whimpered, trying to rub himself in just the right place. The rising sense of urgency must have been mutual. Matt’s whole body was starting to shiver. Tomo could feel the subtle tremors as Matt shifted his knees against the carpet trying to anchor himself, then pulled Tomo’s hips closer to the edge of the couch.  
  
"You ready?" Matt’s tight, gruff voice whispered.  
  
"Yeah…" Tomo barely had the chance to say that one single syllable.  
  
With very little fuss, Matt found himself sliding inside and being clutched firmly in the confines of Tomo’s snug heat. All around him anxious little muscles were contracting ecstatically, setting off irresistible pulses of response. Matt throbbed dangerously for a second, and he grabbed desperately at the base of his cock. Oo-oh, no. Wait for it. Unconsciously, he caught himself holding his breath, while trying not to move.  
  
Tomo, however, was in no mood for waiting. He pushed his hips up under Matt greedily, throwing his legs open and grasping down for Matt’s ass with both hands. Matt was startled to feel his butt being pummeled and squeezed with maddeningly erotic ferocity as Tomo squirmed and heaved himself impatiently beneath him. Even more frightening was the way Tomo’s formerly quiet whimpering escalated into a full-fledged wail. Reacting in panic to the demanding sound, Matt finally began to thrust, and immediately things quieted down to a deep, rhythmic groaning. He fumbled to grab hold of one of Tomo’s flailing feet and got him by the ankle. Shushing and petting him, he pushed and pumped into Tomo’s intoxicating heat while mumbling words of comfort over his writhing body. Between gasps for breath he called him "baby," and told him he was beautiful and that everything was going to be okay now, until finally their rough delicious ride made it impractical to speak. Thankfully, Matt could sense their grueling race would soon be coming to a finish, that he could finally let go and blow his load. He heard himself babbling encouragements and making all the same shameful, insincere promises uttered by lust-drunk men everywhere. He meant every goddamn word of it, too.  
  
Whether Tomo actually heard him or not was impossible to say.  
  
One more exquisite push in and out would do it, Tomo figured, and then he felt the rush and buzz of his orgasm overtake him. First, there was that rough, jerky spasm tossing his body around like a rag doll, followed quickly by Matt’s hips lurching into him stiffly, losing their finely attuned rhythm. He felt the strong swell and surge as Matt poured out deep inside him, and after that, an expanding warmth and feeling of calm. His hands unclenched, relaxed, and ceased their frantic clutching. In the breathless stillness that followed, without warning, Tomo suddenly felt himself slipping inexplicably over the edge of something dark and limitless; falling and falling into a moment of oblivion, deep and undefined.  
  
He wondered how long he’d been adrift when he suddenly surfaced to find Matt gently cleaning him, using his own shirt like a rag.  
  
"Get up, sit back," he whispered, helping Tomo pull himself into the corner of the couch.  
  
"Are you cold?" he asked, covering Tomo carefully with his own body.  
  
"No," Tomo answered, snuggling into Matt’s warmth.  
  
Matt made a small, non-committal noise acknowledging him and then hunkered down, already slipping off into his own restless dream. His hand locked around one of Tomo’s wrists and pulled it to his chest. Tomo curled his other arm across Matt’s broad shoulders. His legs fell open as Matt settled into the space between them, and before another instant passed, they’d both fallen asleep together.  
  
That is, until Jared and Shannon came back and found them that way.

\--stop--


	3. I Know You Know Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authorship: Polydeuces  
> Summary: Tomo discovers the interpersonal environment inside the band is a lot more complex than he’d imagined. The Jared beast is not so easily tamed. His feelings about Matt confound him. And Shannon is not quite the man Tomo thought he was.

_"Using order to deal with the disorderly,_  
 _using calm to deal with the clamorous,_  
 _is mastering the heart."_  
  
 _"Do not press a desperate enemy."_  
  
 _"Do not stop an army on its way home."_  
  
- The Art of War "VII: Armed Struggle" by Sun Tzu

 

*********

　

Nothing was working out the way he had expected, Shannon reflected irritably. Why was it always so hard to add a fourth? He’d thought being four would give them the stability they needed. It was a practical, tactical decision he’d considered necessary to establish them firmly in the vast, unyielding cosmos of the music industry. Four, that magical number of solidarity and physical reality. Well, things had gotten physical alright. So far, these experiments of his always seemed to go awry, ending in chaos of one kind or another.  
  
Another night, another club. One with no dressing rooms. The backstage area was dusky and dank, and miserably hot. By the time they’d finished their set, Shannon’s shirt and hair were sweat-soaked and clinging to him. Retreating from the stage, he looked down at his hands and saw blood. Not a lot, but god only knew where it had come from.  
  
Over in the corner, under the stark light of a bare bulb, Tomo was rubbing a towel across his face and making a smeary mess of the kohl around his eyes which had already been running in the heat. "I’m going out to the bus for a clean shirt," he announced, drawing a loud, unattractive snort up his nose. The fans, of course would be there waiting impatiently for them. Shannon watched his three band mates shuffling mutely around each other, exhausted, irritable, and wilting. They weren’t even looking at one another anymore.  
  
"Yeah, I’ll go with you," Jared responded.  
  
"Me too," said Matt. His voice rumbled at Jared in a bold confrontation making no attempt whatsoever to sound casual. Despite appearances to the contrary, apparently they were both keeping a wary eye on each other where Tomo was concerned.  
  
"I thought it was your turn to help load the truck," came Jared’s stilted answer. His quiet was deceptive and dangerous, his challenge unmistakable. Turning, he cocked his head and finally let his steely gray stare lock with his bassist’s. Unsubtly ignoring their drama, Tomo walked off sullenly leaving them both where they stood, and headed straight for the rear exit door. The only eyes that followed his swaggering, timely departure were Shannon’s.  
  
And I was the one who invited him here, the little shit. Shannon swallowed hard on the lump of bitterness that had formed in his throat. I was the one who asked him to audition. What the fuck was I thinking? Mentally, Shannon had been kicking himself pretty remorselessly. Well, I was thinking I’d known him for a while, his own answer stung him. So, why didn’t I get the big picture? Why didn’t I see the signs?  
  
"Come on." He stepped forward and touched Matt’s arm. "I said I’d help, too." The job wouldn’t get done right unless at least one of them was there to supervise. Things got left behind. Or misplaced. Or broken from not being secured properly.  
  
Jared looked the two of them over hesitatingly, as if he didn’t quite trust leaving them on their own together.  
  
"It's okay, go ahead," Shannon said to him, nodding after Tomo. "We’ll catch up with you after we’re done here."  
  
Matt shrugged Shannon’s hand off stiffly and stepped away from him with a brisk, determined stride. He never looked back. Letting go of a short, frustrated sigh, Shannon’s eyes searched his brother’s face, but Jared wouldn’t return his gaze either. Without another word, he stalked off, too.  
  
Well, fuck. Just great. Just… fuck it all to hell.  
  
Already their make-shift crew had moved the amps and heavier equipment out back. Little by little, they were becoming more and more proficient with the routine. Tonight, somehow, the band members’ tensions had managed to transmit themselves to their normally boisterous, irrepressible helpers. The guys worked efficiently, if cheerlessly, all around Matt in nearly total silence, barely making more than superficial contact with their eyes. Matt was the one who was always such a stickler for the details--a place for everything, and everything in its place--and they knew it. He presided punctiliously over every break down, and made sure the truck was being loaded so the weight would be distributed evenly. Satisfied at last with the job they were doing, he went and stooped over Shannon, helping him pack up his kit and passing him drum cases wordlessly.  
  
"You know why they call it a ‘snare’?" Shannon asked softly, lifting and pensively holding the instrument between his two hands.  
  
"’Cause of those little wires in the bottom," Matt answered smoothly. Of course; what was Shannon’s point?  
  
"Yep. It’s the exact same word they use for a kind of animal trap. A single, deadly loop of wire that closes around its prey. And the harder the animal struggles to free itself, the tighter it gets."  
  
For a long while after Shannon said that, Matt was lost in his thoughts, going about tasks distractedly, doing the same things twice. Shannon could tell from his silence there was a little war going on within him.  
  
Then, after a time, Matt finally returned from where ever he’d gone on his troubling inner journey. "He tried to free himself, you know?" he offered tentatively.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Shannon responded quietly. He told me, though not in so many words.  
  
"I guess I wasn’t much help." Matt cleared his throat, and dragged his hands though his short, damp hair. The look he tried to hide from Shannon was tired and guilt-ridden.  
  
"Not your fault, man." It was mine.  
  
Shannon’s own troubled thoughts had finally revealed something to him. " _Watch the light, stay in high places, do not face the current of the water_." Sun Tzu. He’d almost forgotten.

It took a strong will and a determined man to pilot his own life on the tides of fate; either with them, or against them. And a particular kind of insight to know which to do when. That was what Shannon had understood about Tomo. Unlike the others, Shannon saw he was at the very least a survivor who would rise above, who would not drown. And that was why he had invited him in. Now, it seemed Tomo was a good deal more.

Tomo was powerful, even if he was still young and did not fully understand the nature of his power. In his present state, like the old saying goes, he was something of a danger to himself and others. But Shannon still believed he was adaptable, he could learn and change. What remained to be seen was if he would. The thing Shannon had not counted on were the changes Tomo was bringing to the rest of them. Until he could be brought into their unity, and more truthfully _if_ , it would be every man for himself. Their old way of doing things had ended. A new beginning was nowhere in sight.

\---------

  
One hotel room was like another, Tomo was thinking. After a while, they all started to look, and smell, more or less the same. Just as he was stepping out of the shower, the door to his room blew open. It was Jared, on his way back from checking in with Shannon. Cautiously, Tomo peered around the bathroom doorframe, already wary of the sounds Jared was making. It must have been a difficult conversation, he realized unhappily. Jared didn’t look too zen.  
  
First rule of Letonomics: do not ask about the brother. Save your breath and conserve your strength. Because you’re not gonna get a straight answer to, "What’s wrong?" anyway, and making Jared dwell on a sore subject would only make him angrier, colder. Conserve your strength, because… in a little while, you’re probably gonna need it.  
  
Before he’d joined the band, Tomo had always thought Shannon seemed like such a laid back guy. As it turned out, appearances could be deceiving. Shannon just had a very subtle way of fighting. Mostly, he fought with Jared, and when he and Jared fought, it was war. Whenever Shannon could not be persuaded to come around to Jared’s way of thinking, and told him plainly and simply, "no," Jared prepared to lay siege. If Shannon responded by refusing to engage him, Jared’s rage would spill out everywhere. Deprived of a suitable target for his aggression Jared sometimes took things out on himself. That was a particularly effective strategy always sure to get Shannon’s attention. But not today, apparently. Tomo felt a pang of apprehension in his gut, wondering what the battle plan was this time.  
  
For Tomo, the last few weeks had been a strained mixture of tedium and personal tensions that had left him feeling jumpy and drained. He rubbed himself down briskly with a towel while watching Jared’s reflection in the large bedroom mirror. Whatever words he’d exchanged with Shannon, Tomo could see he was still replaying them over and over again in his mind; an argument he’d brought back here to finish, apparently. Tomo sized the situation up with sober resignation. Wasn’t the first time Jared had done that. Wouldn’t be the last. He started to fix the towel around his waist and hesitated. Was there honestly any point in trying to _talk_ to Jared at all at the moment? Probably not. No, not really, he decided. Instead, he deliberately stepped directly into Jared’s sight line, and provocatively dropped his only body covering to the floor.

Nothing as useful as a release of endorphines for diffusing a situation of displaced aggression.  
  
Jared looked up as if seeing him for the first time, and only now remembering where he was. In Tomo’s room, clutching Tomo’s spare room card in his hand.  
  
"That didn’t take long." Tomo’s lips curled easily and appealingly. He figured a simple statement was a safer opening than a question, and it gave Jared a choice. He could respond to the implied inquiry by supplying some information, or he could take Tomo up on the smile.  
  
"No," Jared replied crisply. "It didn’t."  
  
An instant later, he was crushing Tomo between himself and the wall with his two fists clamping down over Tomo’s wrists like restraints. He'd trapped Tomo’s hands behind his back by locking his own arms around him. The sting of sharp teeth grazed a warning down the side of Tomo’s warm, smooth-shaven cheek then seized violently at his mouth. Gasping involuntarily, Tomo turned his face aside.  
  
"Fuck, Jared… " Without thinking, he strained against the vice-like grip. Bad move. The struggle was the thing Jared was lusting for.  
  
"Don’t talk." Jared’s lips were pressed against his face. His low, menacing whisper filled Tomo’s ear. "You have nothing to say here."

Okay. So, at least now Tomo knew what Jared and Shannon had fought about. Him. His sense that he was potentially in some kind of poorly-defined danger hitched up a notch.  
  
The more Tomo struggled, the more the grasp that encircled him tightened and constricted. Painfully, his arms were wrenched back even further. Exhausted and already drawing on a nearly depleted reserve of emotional endurance, Tomo tried willing himself to relax. His heart was beginning to pound, and his fists were clenching and unclenching uncontrollably since every instinct was telling him to fight back. He tried making a rapid assessment, forcing himself to think clinically. They were a pretty even match for height and strength. Tomo considered he might even have an advantage over Jared in terms of knowing how to defend himself, just possibly. But Jared had the edge on adrenaline. Everything about him was just burning up with it. The question was, how much of that could Tomo let him act on without anybody getting hurt. That is, really actually  _hurt_.  
  
He barely got the chance to wonder about it.  
  
After brutally pressing their combined weight into the wall for several seconds, Jared suddenly stepped back. He turned swiftly yanking Tomo along with him--too quickly in fact--and then tried to check his step when Tomo began losing his balance. They staggered, stumbling over each other for a moment fighting the force of gravity together, but then they were falling. If it had been Jared’s intention to get him down on the floor, Tomo grimaced, his plan was working, although rather inelegantly.  
  
At the last instant as they tumbled and twisted downward, Jared released Tomo from his death grip. Too late to do anything to cushion the impact, Tomo landed on his back with a bone-rattling thud. And Jared came down sprawling on top of him. Their heads collided together so hard it was like being struck with a blunt object. Long seconds passed without any sound or motion coming from either of them other than stunned stillness, their bodies lay entangled together in an inert pile of arms and legs. Silently, Tomo prayed the fall had brought Jared back to his more restrained senses.

It was a futile wish.  
  
Close to his face, he heard the rasping sound of Jared drawing in a stiff, choking gasp like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Immediately, his pelvis ground down and thrust into Tomo’s groin. A rough, denim-clad thigh was scraping and jamming itself between his bare legs. Jared’s hands closed around the sides of Tomo’s head, fingers digging deep into his scalp and raking up strands of damp hair. His breaths raged in his throat. A hard, angry mouth, fierce and devouring, covered Tomo’s lips while Jared’s palms began squeezing together over Tomo’s temples. His harsh, demanding tongue quarried for entry.  
  
"Open," he hissed, and Tomo obeyed, thinking the pressure on his skull might crack it like an eggshell. He was still holding out one desperate hope. If only he could get Jared out of his clothes, and get on with something else he knew Jared really wanted -- maybe wanted even more -- perhaps this could still end happily for both of them.  
  
Planning to at least set Jared’s working parts free, Tomo began snaking a hand down between their bodies, pulling up his shirt, impishly teasing a fingertip into his belly button, tweaking Jared’s short hairs. Slowly, he made his determined, erotic progress lower and lower. Jared’s arousal was seething hard and over-ready when Tomo finally found his way to it, trapped beneath a row of snug brass buttons that seemed intent on holding him captive forever.  
  
While Tomo struggled to open them, Jared grew stalking-still like an animal contemplating its prey. He leaned back cautiously letting Tomo do his work, his eyelids sliding closed into tiny, watchful slits. Tomo tugged and toiled dexterously with the stubborn fabric which finally produced its hidden treasure. The feel of Jared’s hot, solid flesh in his hand startled Tomo’s cock to wakefulness. Summoning up the last of his nerve, Tomo lifted his head and bit at Jared’s lips playfully, letting him know the game was on.  
  
Jared fell on him ravenously, teeth tearing at the base of Tomo’s throat. His short, sharp nails clawed a path down the tender, quivering skin along Tomo’s sides. Tomo squirmed and shifted under him until he was able to wrap his legs over Jared’s back, yielding and making himself pointedly vulnerable, ribs heaving against Jared’s fight and weight. The hunter and the hunted. Tomo made a soft sound, hoping a display of submission would stop Jared’s unconditional onslaught. Wide-eyed, rolling his anxious gaze to the side, he tried to turn his head seeking out the other’s look imploringly.  
  
"Jared… " Tomo began, pleading between wracking gasps for breath, but one look told him there was nothing in those ice blue eyes he could appeal to. Nothing.

Whatever Shannon had said or done, he'd done his work extremely well.  
  
And so it would go, Tomo realized numbly. He gritted his teeth and fought for control over his panic and his breathing, committing himself to bearing it. No prep, no sweet talk; nothing but pure, unadulterated animal aggression. An undiluted, punishing display of dominance on a spare hotel room floor in a city Tomo couldn’t even remember the name of at the moment.  
  
 _"Why are you here?"_  
  
Was this what he had come for? All his carefully made plans were disintegrating and coming apart like castles made of sand. A million little pieces slipping through his fingers, dissolving and disappearing in the watery haze that filled his eyes. Suddenly, it seemed like all his dreams were transforming themselves into an inescapable nightmare.

\---------

  
Like most mornings, breakfast consisted of an assortment of greasily aromatic take-out food fetched by a willing go-fer. They emptied their hotel rooms of their belongings and shuffled out to the bus, crowding around its small galley table in a profound somnambulant silence, still not awake and too short of time for a proper restaurant meal. Shannon yawned and began unpacking two rumpled, white paper bags filled with plastic covered plates of eggs and biscuit sandwiches. Croissants, orange juice…  
  
"Who ordered yogurt?" his thick, incredulous voice mumbled. Tomo arched an eyebrow at him preemptively, and Shannon blinked. Conversations between them had been few and enigmatic for a couple weeks now. What was with the eye signals?  
  
"Soy yogurt. There should be granola that comes with it," his hushed voice murmured back.  
  
Okay, that explained things. Shannon dug a little deeper into the bag.  
  
"Yeah, there is."  
  
Jared was fidgeting in the seat next to Tomo’s, peering suspiciously at a serving of hash browns in a little styrofoam box.  
  
"Look." Tomo shoved the granola in front of him hopefully. "How about this?"  
  
In secret, Shannon had been quietly observing the progress of a redish-brown stain just beneath Tomo’s left cheekbone, a telltale bruise that was fading now. Lower down, peeking out from under his carelessly open shirt collar, a series of jagged, purple rosettes marred the skin at the base of his throat. Slowly tinting from black to yellow, they were still as vivid as the day they were made. Something in Shannon’s chest tightened, thinking he knew the cause of that. You could call them love bites, but then again, maybe not.  
  
"Coffee?" Matt grumbled, settling into the chair next to Shannon. He looked awful, like he hadn’t actually slept for days.  
  
"Right here." The rich, earthy smell of a.m. caffeine rose irresistibly as Matt lifted off the lid. Mechanically, he poured packet after packet of sugar into the jumbo cup until Shannon started to make gagging noises, and Jared looked up suddenly then barked a short laugh.  
  
"You want insulin with that?" Shannon inquired pleasantly, pretending to search the bottom of the bag again.  
  
"You drink it the way you like it, and I’ll drink it the way I like it," Matt growled around his grudging smile.  
  
Somewhere between Minneapolis and Denver the fever of animosity between Matt and Jared had broken. Though the wound that had caused it no longer festered, its new growth of proud flesh was still sensitive and sore. As always, Shannon suspected Matt of giving in to whatever it was Jared needed. He’d been watching them for days now as they tenderly maneuvered around each other, cautiously and protectively insulating themselves against the possibility of re-injury.  
  
Finally, Shannon settled down over a plate of French toast and his own cup of coffee. He wasn’t actually awake enough to feel hungry yet, but their erratic schedule frequently forced a divorce between eating and appetite. Shannon had quickly learned that if he let a meal go for more than five hours, his attitude suffered. Then, everyone around him suffered. Jared’s tortured relationship with food was even worse. He needed to eat, but always said he was too busy, he had more important things to do. A meal could wait, sometimes indefinitely. Jared was a man on a mission.  
  
Tomo, meanwhile, shifted impatiently in the window seat next to him.  
  
"You need to eat something," he prompted.  
  
Jared glared suspiciously at the proffered granola, while fitfully stabbing at some potatoes on his plate, but never once did he raise his fork to his lips.  
  
Please, please Tomo. Do not start fighting with him about the food, Shannon pleaded silently. Sturdier angels than you have gone there, and done that, and I can tell you from experience, it’s the fastest route to meltdown you can think of.  
  
These days, Shannon’s thoughts were increasingly haunted by the specter of Jared’s next great battle of ingestion looming before them. What he was and wasn't willing to take into himself. An inevitable new campaign in his eternal war of consumption: the ordeal of consuming and being consumed. It was the metaphor for his life. Hoping for some moral support, Shannon glanced over at Matt who had often seen glimpses of Jared arming and preparing himself for these contests. An old companion and warrior from the early days, he was familiar with the signs. But this morning Shannon couldn’t get his attention. Matt’s weary, troubled gaze was fixed on Tomo in a revealingly naked stare.  
  
Their modest crew filed aboard to announce they were all loaded up and good to go, and to eagerly claim their breakfast orders. Jared rose from his seat, already quizzing them for everything they knew about the set up at their next venue. His meal would have been over and forgotten if Tomo had not peeled the meat off an egg and sausage sandwich, and placed it in his actively gesticulating hand. At last, Shannon saw a bite of English muffin make its way into Jared’s mouth. His degree of relief was palpable.  
  
More and more old memories had been surfacing ominously in Shannon’s anxious thoughts recently. The kinds of things he’d stored away from years ago when the band was still getting started. It had been just the two of them for so long, preparing, waiting for the day to come. And then, there had come a day during a break from the music when he’d gone to visit Jared the Actor on a small, bustling movie set. Totally unprepared to face the future he was about to meet.  
  
"Go ahead," Jared had smiled defiantly. "Tell me how awful I look." He was thin to the point of gauntness having been resolutely starving himself for his ‘art’.  
  
"You do. You look terrible," Shannon replied in mock-cheerfulness. "I’d think you were half dead. Is that what you were going for?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, good. You’re there." Please, stop now.  
  
He’d stopped, though, only after he’d thoroughly undone himself. Then, wordlessly disappeared to put the pieces back together on his own. Much later, Shannon realized there was nothing about that he didn’t understand. Only what he had failed to recognize.  
  
The past, the present, and the future, Shannon thought soberly. A line of lost perspective leading him a scary, harrowing chase. This was not anything like the stability he’d been dreaming of. It was only more of Jared’s divine madness. What didn’t kill his brother merely seemed to make him tougher--and stronger. And hard as diamonds, Shannon thought ruefully, it was a mixed blessing. It was one of the many things about Jared that gave him a rare and priceless kind of beauty in Shannon’s eyes. But privately he worried. Could the rest of them stand up to those same vulcanizing pressures? Could Jared’s personal momentum keep pulling them all along after him towards the next inevitable juncture of choice and change?

\---------

  
They’d been on the road for hours again, suspended in the timelessness of night, somewhere between their last place of departure and whatever location they would arrive at next. Tomo found it easy to lose track.  
  
Tonight’s show had been a good, exhilarating one with the energy between the audience and the band running hot and high. It took them to the next level of their performance, something a step beyond the ordinary Echelon love fest. That spark was enough to give Tomo hope, to dig deeper.  
  
Still, here and there they would run into the occasional fan disappointed at not seeing Solon. Jarringly, in the middle of the evening’s euphoria, someone close to the stage had called out pointedly saying so. Who the hell, he demanded, was this new fucker? Unperturbed, Jared continued without missing a beat, but as soon as they’d finished their set, he shooed Tomo away to the bus like a child being sent to his room. Once there, Tomo had spent a lonely hour, mostly by himself, not really knowing what Jared meant by doing that.  
  
The bus rumbled on through the darkness. Matt shuffled his way from the kitchen, bumping the back of Jared’s shoulder lightly to get his attention. When Jared turned, he slid a bottle of cold spring water into his hand; a non-confrontational gift with few expectations attached.  
  
Tomo tilted his head away, then watched them from under lowered lashes as they got up and made their way toward the back of the bus, swaying against its motion. Like the road-worthy warriors they’d all become. If any of this was registering on Shannon’s radar, it wasn’t setting off his alarms, at least not as far as Tomo could tell. No, of course not. Matt had been with them a long time now. A guy like Matt presented no problems to someone like Shannon. It was a safe bet that was one of the main reasons Matt was still here. If Tomo had been thinking clearly, he would have checked Matt’s tattoos more closely, to see if there wasn’t a Leto seal of approval on his ass. Meanwhile, he scrutinized the way Shannon’s full attention was being absorbed by some vacuous video on the TV screen in front of them. Nope, absolutely no concerns there.  
  
Unfortunately, Tomo was not feeling the same sense of composure. His gut was a beehive of swarming, churning anxieties over this latest development. Unable to stop himself, he got up and followed after them, feigning as much innocence as he could muster. Silently, he crept down the aisle, stopping before he got to the doorway of the lounge just a footstep short of anyone being able to see him there. Not to spy on them, or anything… Well, okay, he finally admitted to himself. He was that desperate for information, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what exactly he was going to have to do next to get a grip on the situation. So setting rationalizations aside, he stood frozen in his last half finished motion, holding his breath and straining to listen in on what was happening inside.  
  
Over the smothered sounds of one of their roadies snoring in his bunk, Tomo could hear Jared fumbling and halting his way through a fragmented little speech about his own confused behaviour lately -- a rambling dialog punctuated more by the frustration of his own conflicted neediness, and his demands for reassurance, than any real remorse on his part. And Matt was responding with short, mumbled, neutral sounding comments spoken in a tone that let Tomo know he still had both feet on the ground. Literally. Strangely, Tomo’s concern about that seemed almost stronger than his worries about Jared's frame of mind. Then, before the two of them got any farther into it, came the rustling noise of someone getting up and moving closer to the door. Quickly, Tomo ducked into their tiny bathroom, trying to make his eavesdropping appear accidental.  
  
The door latched behind him on a space so confining it hardly seemed large enough to hold sufficient air for him to breath. Or maybe that was just the sense of it in Tomo’s mind, combined with the peculiar feeling he was experiencing in his chest. Like a winch, gradually drawing up a length of chain that wrapped around him, tighter and tighter. Oddly, he found himself thinking about the sound of Matt’s mellow, rumbling whisper caressing over him in the heat of their love-making that one remarkable night. And he thought about the argument they’d had the day after. His eyes closed and opened again softly, like an unuttered prayer.  
  
When he’d finished with the john, he took an unusually long time standing by the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. In an oddly detached way, he considered the looks of the man he saw reflected there. It might have been the face of a stranger; superficial and closed, cool and dark, a pair of eyes clouded over with secrets. Mysteries that even Tomo didn’t fully understand. Brusquely, he disciplined his thoughts back to the subject of Jared.  
  
It wasn’t like him to miss a trick like Shannon, but he had. Shannon had made himself practically invisible by hiding in plain sight. By simply being Jared’s brother. That fact alone had made him threat enough, Tomo had overlooked the rest entirely. It was the one thing so inconceivable to Tomo, that -- consequentially -- he’d never even thought of it. Now that he had, he could see there was no other choice. He had to take Shannon. Or concede defeat.  
  
Very, very risky. And much easier said than done.  
  
A soft whisk of stale air accompanied the opening of the bathroom door. The aisle outside was empty. There were no sounds or voices emanating from anywhere, save the ones on Shannon’s TV screen. Everyone else had retired, or so it seemed. Quietly, Tomo crawled into his bunk and settled down uneasily in its curtained twilight to contemplate his problem. At first, he had some trouble finding his focus, lying awake, unable to sleep. Eventually, though, he succumb to the white noise and seductive hum of the highway. As the shadow of slumber fell, the veil lifted. It was just like always. After a moment of drifting, he was pleased and surprised to find himself once again in the fertile garden of Hypnos, completely in his element, still perfectly able and capable of conjuring up all his wildest dreams.

\-- stop --


	4. Is This Who You Are?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authorship: Polydeuces  
> Summary: More changes for Tomo. And for Jared. Tomo’s relationship with Shannon undergoes a drastic alteration. He has second thoughts about his place within the band. Matt tries to help mend some of the recent damage he and Jared have done to each other. It’s time for a new beginning in an endless cycle of change.

_"Using order to deal with the disorderly,_  
 _using calm to deal with the clamorous,_  
 _is mastering the heart."_

_"Do not press a desperate enemy."_

_"Do not stop an army on its way home."_

-The Art of War "VII: Armed Struggle" by Sun Tzu

 

*********

　

They took a break at dawn in one of those familiar American institutions of the road, a truck stop. Food and fuel gone corporate sometime over the last decade. Diesel, restaurant, convenience store, laundromat, and showers. Shannon found if they dressed the part carefully, it was easy enough to blend in with the rest of the long-haulers. All except for Jared who, often as not, was taken for a truck stop whore.  
  
Today, those long golden locks he’d been letting grow out weren’t helping him any. He tossed his freshly shampooed hair back over his shoulders and gazed daggers at a big, husky fellow with a chain on his wallet whose eyes had been following him gamely all through breakfast. Usually, Jared stuck pretty close to Shannon or Matt at a time like this and kept his mouth shut. But other times, Shannon's little brother found it amusing to flirt with Matt rather openly. Whenever it looked like there might be some potential for trouble in it, basically, if that's what he was in the mood for. A practice Shannon felt sure, sooner or later, was bound to get them all killed. Especially in this part of the country. Even worse were the moments when Jared couldn't quite resist, for whatever reason, his impulse to target one of those lonesome big-riggers with his canny, devil-eyed come hither. He had an unfathomable sixth sense about who was ripe for that sort of tease. So far, Jared had never guessed wrong enough to get the shit beat out of him, but it was always left to Shannon or Matt to work him out of the messes he created.  
  
Standing in the cramped concession store, Shannon glared a warning at his brother from a strategic lookout between the racks full of skin magazines and the junk food. There. He'd spied one of Jared’s hapless snack aisle conquests button-holing Matt in front of the checkout. Their tall, unruffled bassist was slowly shaking his head back and forth. No deal. Quickly, Shannon slipped out from between the counters and sprinted to Jared’s side, glowering dangerously in all directions simultaneously.  
  
"Jared! What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed.  
  
Mutely, Jared fixed his eyes on a bag of organic fruit and nut mix, pretending to study the label while struggling to contain a small, very self-satisfied smile. Whatever his damn game was, Shannon was vaguely aware it was working.  
  
Before long, Matt had sauntered back over to stand beside them, rocking back on his heels and stealing a casual peek at Shannon around Jared’s tousled head. Yeah, the older Leto looked hot enough to fry eggs. Whatever composure he’d been able to maintain over a double helping of biscuits and sausage gravy had apparently gone up in a cloud of frustrated cigarette smoke with that second cup of joe. Nine a.m. and already his younger sibling had managed to get on his last nerve. Playfully, Matt rolled his eyes, sending Shannon a cool, temperate version of his best cock-eyed grin.  
  
"Y’know,’ Matt grumbled, leaning towards Jared’s ear. "I could make myself a decent living off of you if you’d just lower your standards and try to make yourself a little more agreeable."  
  
Roiling as he was with under-directed irritation, Shannon turned on his band mate with icy cold venom virtually spewing from his eyes. Not even funny, Wachter. He could see Matt was waiting with cautious amusement for the acid comeback sure to be on the tip of Jared's tongue. He also saw how Matt was studying _him_ , still and steady. Like the guy whose job it is to know when to open the relief valve and anticipates the release. But, it never came. In a flash like lightning, Shannon saw something more than a reflection of Jared twinkling in Matt’s gaze; a moment of pure insight that took him almost completely by surprise. Almost.

"Thought I already had," Jared replied smoothly.  
  
"Where’s Tomo?" Shannon demanded gruffly. With a tremulous hand, he tugged the brim of his hat down over his eyes.  
  
It was like standing on the beach, Matt thought to himself privately, watching a rogue wave come in unexpectedly and hit Shannon in the back without warning, knocking him silly.  
  
So, along with of a dose of Jared’s vinegar, the other thing Matt got was an up close view of Shannon's distraught stare when the inevitable moment of realization finally arrived, replacing his barely contained fury.  
  
"He went back to the bus," Jared stated flatly.  
  
Matt continued to watch Shannon curiously, observing how his meticulous struggle for control buried the last ripple of unconfrontable emotions under a cosmetically bland and nondescript frown. The sudden swell that had overtaken him receded, leaving nothing but an unblemished surface like smooth, unmarked sand.  
  
Too quiet.

Shannon’s frown deepened. Damn, he was thinking, I probably should have been worrying about Tomo sooner. Ever since the night before, Shannon had been feeling a little concerned about him. Now he probably had even more reason to. Fuck, it would almost have been better to find their errant guitarist defiantly banging some stranger in the men’s room -- and risking his pathetic, dick-headed life -- than slinking back to the bus to be alone.  
  
"Alright, well, we’ve still got a couple of hours travel ahead of us." Suddenly Jared was all business again, which was exactly the prompting they needed to get them back on track.  
  
So, while Matt rounded up their straggling crew, Shannon went off in search of one last cup of coffee to go, and with that, they were ready to be back on the road.

\---------

  
"Jared, you know, we’ve talked about this… " Or, God knows, Shannon swore silently, I have tried to talk to you about this. Fuck me if I haven’t tried.  
  
"You talked," Jared corrected him breezily.  
  
True enough. More than once Shannon had tried his best to talk sense to Jared about this thing with Tomo, or more correctly, about this thing that had been going on between the two of _them_ since long before Tomo. Or any of the others, because now, Matt too. But whenever he did, Jared had a habit of indulging in some of his favorite diversionary tactics.  
  
"Yeah?" Shannon sneered, "How could you tell? It’s not like you’ve ever actually listen."  
  
Jared paused to looked up and consider his brother carefully for a moment. "No, but I’ve seen your lips moving." His face was a study in insolent composure.  
  
Vainly, Shannon had waited for an honest opening from Jared that would unlock the gate in the wall of his defenses. There were things between them that needed to be said. Things that were almost impossibly difficult for Shannon to tell him, things it seemed Jared had no interest in hearing him say. Shrewdly, Jared always knew when to anticipate the next junction in their ongoing non-discussion. When pressured, he would invariably retaliate by pushing back at some of Shannon’s deepest fears, making certain not to leave out Solon. In the past, Jared had never been above cutting deeply and malignantly at other things Shannon had never been prepared to face either. At least, not before now.  
  
By employing a selective strategy of alternating remoteness with ruthless truth, Jared had generally managed to emerged from their private battles victorious, and largely unscathed. Eventually, Shannon would tire of arguing with Jared’s silences, his acusatory explanations, and painful digressions. The end result was that Shannon never quite got around to saying everything he’d really meant to say. Now, ready or not, the matter was more urgent. This morning, he’d tried once again. Another conversation that had ended in another exhausted draw.

And despite Jared's status as victor, it was clear how deeply dissatisfied he too had been with the outcome.  
  
Wearily, Shannon stared into the dregs of cold coffee swirling in the bottom of his cup. Grounds were settling in the murk like tea leaves; dark, granular little omens waiting to be divested of their warning signs. The rules of substitution had changed.  
  
There were a couple of things Shannon knew about Tomo he was pretty certain Tomo didn’t even realize about himself. For example, most people knew he could be a real slob, but hardly anyone ever got the reason behind the mess. It was Tomo’s way of leaving his mark on a place. Just to be certain he wasn’t being ignored, or overlooked. It was self-assertion, pure and simple, and for some unknown reason Tomo must have found it validating. So, finding yourself tripping over Tomo’s shoes all the time was a first rate way of gauging the status of his vulnerability. The more insecure and taken-for-granted Tomo was feeling, the more likely you were to discover his dirty socks lying in the middle of the kitchen table.  
  
Lately, the clutter had been striving towards epic proportions. Then, suddenly, all of that stopped.  
  
The day still felt unreasonably early when the bus and their truck pulled up in front of the old music hall. Fortunately, they were able to unload right there on the street without any hassle. They finished setting up while technicians for the headlining band were working on the lights. Not many other people were around yet, so it was more or less like having the place to themselves.  
  
After a routine sound check, they rehearsed through a couple of rough spots in their set, and made some changes. Jared spoke softly and exactingly to Tomo about what needed fixing using a tone of voice that was something other than the sullen surliness he had been treating him to recently. Tomo nodded his head in short jerky motions and squinted at the floor. Shannon fidgeted, noting how Matt was monitoring every nuance of Jared’s interactions with Tomo. Through it all, he stood rooted in that tight, military at-ease that over time had become Matt's natural posture. Sadly, Shannon suspected his vigilance was at least partly fueled by the sense that, somehow, he had mismanaged his role in the action recently. That when his time had finally come, he’d failed to execute an unknowable plan.  
  
At last, Jared said, "Enough."  
  
Shannon tucked his sticks away and got up stiffly feeling a sudden twinge of tightness. Damn. Sometimes it was in his shoulders, sometimes his neck. One more problem he didn’t need right now.  
  
Matt hadn’t mismanaged anything, Shannon knew, not really. He’d simply made a series of blind choices, unwittingly and non-judgmentally from the depths of his heart. Like always. That was Matt, sighed Shannon, the inner strength of a Titan and the heart of a lion. A man who understood that "dared" was not just another word for "consequences." Even when he’d dared to follow Jared’s lead, and it brought all kinds of unpredictable and unanticipated results.  
  
Initially, Matt had found a power he could manage confidently in the music, standing on stage night after night in the circle of Jared’s spell. Jared was a precious thing, a kind of source who could be used in many ways. He was the vital conduit between an audience and a performance; a focal point where those who came to look were able to intersect with those who came to act. More cynically put, Shannon knew Jared was something of a user who permitted himself to be used. But, get the mix out of balance and his brother would be out of control. Aligning yourself to a fortune like Jared’s always came at a cost.

Somewhere along the line, in the emptiness of uncertain choices and impersonal hotel rooms, Jared had finally demanded his bassist’s impromptu payment. And Matt, ever faithful, had met Jared’s price.  
  
Now the power of Matt’s liminal state was broken, squandered on one dark, ephemeral moment populated by Jared’s worst fears. A panacea for a problem with no other reasonable solution.  
  
My fault, thought Shannon, blaming himself.  
  
The shallow stage was typical of a lot of old movie theatres that over the years had been converted for live performance use. In fact, their dressing room was barely more than a crawl space under the first floor. Low ceiling, dim lighting. They shoved their equipment into backstage corners to make room for the first opening band, and brought in from the bus everything else they thought they might need for the concert that night. Immediately, Matt and Jared began debating about places to eat and food choices, planning to head out for an early dinner. Or a very late lunch depending on how you looked at things. Mysteriously, Tomo had melted away into the clutter that surrounded them and was nowhere to be found.  
  
"You go ahead and we’ll catch up with you later," Shannon muttered, intuitively perceiving Tomo’s urgent, if unspoken, invitation. This was an appointment he knew he’d better keep. His eyes signaled to Matt, whose presence of mind would hopefully help distract Jared from discerning the situation’s obvious implications. Tomo’s needs could be genuine sometimes, Shannon thought in frustration, but they were far from subtle. He watched as his brother and his friend headed out a side door that emptied into a narrow alley. It closed on the sound of their animated voices with an ancient, metallic clunk.  
  
There were lots more people around now than when they’d first arrived. More activity and more noise. With casual, cat-like grace, Shannon moved through the building returning familiar greetings and exchanging quips, listening attentively with all his senses for a very particular sound.  
  
He scouted around through the theater, and continued down the curving stairway into the dark warren of storage spaces and dressing rooms below. Even before he turned the right corner and saw him, Shannon could feel Tomo’s presence much the same way he could always sense when Jared entered a room,. He knew he was getting closer. Then, he heard him. From somewhere nearby came the soft, acoustic echo of guitar strings being coaxed along under a gifted hand.  
  
He followed the sad, bluesy sound until it led him to a bare wooden bench hidden in a far corner. There was Tomo, hunched over his instrument like a wounded animal. Heart-wrenching to watch and dangerous to touch. As he listened, Shannon thought he heard something recognizable in Tomo's quick, improvised variations of an endlessly repeating melody. Automatically, he found himself mentally tapping out a rhythmic counterpoint, and then he realized what it was. A clever riff on a short phrase Jared had been playing around with that morning -- not even a song yet. Just a lonely, haunting refrain about lost secrets, and endings.  
  
For a long time Shannon simply stood in place right where Tomo could see him if he wanted to. He was quite sure his band mate knew he was there. Eventually, Tomo’s fingers stilled on the strings. Their lingering vibrations had somehow managed to fill the air surrounding them with ghosts from Shannon’s past, and vivid images of Jared that had been seared into time and his memory. What Tomo didn’t know -- what he could not possibly know yet -- about all the things he somehow knew instinctively, would have filled a book, Shannon thought to himself silently.  
  
"That isn’t your usual style," he began. Moving quietly, Shannon crossed the small, empty space that separated them and sat down on the vacant end of the bench.  
  
"There are other things I can do," Tomo responded carefully. Meaning, if he needed to. His grip closed white-knuckled around his guitar’s neck as he lowered it into its case.  
  
So, he was thinking about the possibility of leaving?  
  
"I know what you can do," Shannon whispered. Probably better than you know yourself.  
  
Tomo glanced up, staring directly into his eyes. In the center of his cheek, the fading brown smudge of his bruise caught Shannon’s returning gaze. Gently and with the greatest care, he reached up to touch it, wrapping his palm along the side of Tomo’s face and letting his coarse thumb tip brushed over the delicate, discolored skin.  
  
"Is this who you are?"  
  
Surprised and speechless, Tomo’s eyelids fluttered down. Shannon sensed more than felt the small wave of shock that passed through him as they touched. Tomo made no attempt to answer him. He didn’t even try to move, held captive as he was in the moment, caught tightly in the protective curve of Shannon’s hand. Determinedly, Shannon held him there by the pure power of wanting, his caress lighter than the air. It was the most receptive Tomo had ever been in all the time Shannon had known him.  
  
And so there was no doubt, or second-guess when Shannon’s lips pressed warmly and confidently over Tomo’s. Shyly, curiously, his kiss was returned. Shannon tumbled helplessly into its softness and sweetness, and most surprisingly of all, its slightly breathless bashfulness. Their mouths touched and parted, and touched again in a wordless confession of mutual need.  
  
Shannon was first to break the kiss; it wasn’t easy. He leaned back foggy-eyed, and thinking how hard it was to stop the sensual whirling in his head. Tomo’s gaze glimmered at him attentively from under a veil of dark hair, two bright, clever eyes betraying his docile expression. Well, Shannon reasoned, there was nothing unanticipated about that.  
  
"Ah, Jared and Matt already took off to get some dinner." Shannon swallowed, intentionally trying to slow things down and redirect himself. "You wanna go grab something to eat?"  
  
"I’m not that hungry," Tomo’s reluctant voice answered.  
  
Another one, not eating.  
  
"You need to eat," Shannon insisted softly, taking Tomo’s hand and rising to his feet. He pulled gently and insistently until Tomo stood and began walking beside him.  
  
And you will eat, too, Shannon smiled decisively. If I have to sit there myself and feed you.

\---------

  
He forced himself to stand down stage close to the fans, although he felt like he couldn’t trust them anymore. Whenever they screamed and reached for him, Tomo took a step back, trying to stay just beyond the range of their grasping hands. He found, however, if he listened only to Shannon, closed his eyes and let himself fall headlong into that river of rhythm, it was a whole lot easier. Then, the music flowed; rushed and pounded, churning like thundering rapids, drowning out every other painful thing that had been happening recently. It worked well enough, so long as he didn’t look at Jared.  
  
Watching Jared was like staring into a glassy pool of water and seeing a beautiful stranger there. So beautiful. But, whenever Tomo tried to touch him, to take hold of him and possess him, that strange forbidding image would shatter into a thousand pieces leaving him feeling devastated and alone. As if Jared himself existed all in pieces. You might claim this one or that one for a moment, but in the end it all slipped through your fingers and drained away.  
  
So, he watched Shannon. And it didn’t take him long to notice Jared was forever watching Shannon, too. More than just signaling each other about the music, all through their performance they maintained a separate, fevered conversation with their eyes. Tonight it had reached a pyretic pitch that threatened to overtake them. In the hall, over a thousand voices roared and echoed, never knowing the nature of the sorcery that demanded their response. It drew every one of them in like a drug. Humbled, Tomo watched in awe and envious fascination. Here was the power he’d believed he could harness, free and aflame. Two bodies, one soul, and a mass witness to their sacred, fraternal conflagration -- communal, burning, and very nearly out of their control.

\---------

  
Hours of sweating, signing, goofing, and fan hugging later, Tomo was helping to lift the last of their equipment onto the truck when one of the roadies popped an unexpected question.  
  
"Tomo, you coming with us tonight?"  
  
It was like a vacation anytime they finally got a day off, and tomorrow was the day. Duty call to party; no need to sleep tonight. Half the towns they played in were places at least one of them had played before, with clubs they knew and enjoyed frequenting. Tomo still loved to catch a favorite band from right in front, up close and personal. It was no secret. Superficially, he eyed the kid over, trying to sense whatever else might be lurking under his innocent sounding invitation.  
  
"Shannon said to ask you," came the gushing, unsolicited explanation, "’cause you’d probably want to come."  
  
Oh, I would, huh? Tomo smothered a slightly calculating grin. How, exactly, did he figure?  
  
The truth was Shannon knew an amazing number of people. Seemed like he knew someone almost everywhere they went. Like, the owner of the music hall they had just played turned out to be an old friend of Shannon’s. Tonight, he knew someone with a car, and a good ear for jazz.  
  
"Where is Shannon anyway?" Tomo grouched, as they struggled with an amp.  
  
"Still out front, taking pictures."  
  
Typical.  
  
"Okay," Tomo smiled, thinking about how good it would feel to simply let go of things and forget about it all for a few hours. He rubbed a grimy, sweaty hand over his shirt thoughtfully. And maybe, given the right kind of time and opportunity, he could turn the night into a little something more.  
  
"Just gimme a few minutes," he said, watching them slam the truck door down securely. "I want to clean up first, and change my clothes."

\---------

  
The click of a shutter was a very reassuring thing, thought Shannon. Like the sound of a lock closing over moments in time that might otherwise be lost forever.  
  
Or, the latch on a door sealing up acts never meant to be examined in the light of day. Here, living a nocturnal life conducted under the cover and comfort of darkness, you could hide away an errant impulse forever.  
  
Shannon lowered the all-seeing eye of his camera long enough to tease his preening subjects with a silly, self-mocking leer.  
  
"Now show me that tattoo again," he coaxed playfully, touching the tip of his tongue to his lips. A chorus of nervous, twittering giggles answered him. Theatrically, a back turned. A seductively stretched neckline slid lower and lower baring a shoulder to the sound of giddy laughter and a rising tide of "o-oh"s.  
  
"Perfect." His flash flared in a whiteout of brightness against the dull gray of outdoor security lights. Pupils reduced to pinpricks. A momentary blindness ensued.  
  
They were always so willing. Too willing. Shannon’s sense of temptation was very real, but so were his scruples. As was his commitment to his other responsibilities. Even with Matt close by he still felt the urge to be vigilant. To his right, he heard Jared smoothly answering a bold, intrusive question with a question of his own, deflecting with his cleverness someone’s uninvited need.  
  
Nonchalantly, Shannon stood at his post pretending to change lenses and listening to the verbal sparring. A soft, intermittent rain had begun to fall. Earlier that evening, he’d watched the red sky darken as a wind-swept tide of heavy clouds blew in under the sunset. Now, the sound of distant thunder caused him to cast an eye skyward again. Eerily, a skittering of ragged wisps like cold fingers drifted across the moon. Abruptly, the fine fall of droplets ceased.  
  
A storm of indecision.  
  
Beside him, the delicate thrust and parry of unwelcome innuendo continued provoking his sad smile. Banter was the sword and shield Jared wielded most artfully in public life. It was a skill he’d been forced to perfect in his youth, and to this day remained his weapon of choice for maintaining sovereignty over his privacy.  
  
It was partly a game, too. One that Jared played aggressively, if not always graciously.  
  
Tonight it was no contest. With verve and deadly aim Jared plied his thoroughly effective strategy to a decisive, if slightly bloody, finish. The vanquished slinked away to lick wounds. Shannon slid the lens cover over his camera's eye and turned toward the rear door of the building, satisfied he was no longer needed. His brother was more than capable of defending himself against any mere mortal who, in over-eager naivety, desired to go places with him where even the darkest angel would fear to tread.

\--stop--


	5. The Eye of the Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authorship: Polydeuces  
> Summary: S/T-era; 2006 orig.  
> More changes for Tomo. And for Jared. Tomo’s relationship with Shannon undergoes a drastic alteration. He has second thoughts about his place within the band. Matt tries to help mend some of the recent damage he and Jared have done to each other. It’s time for a new beginning in an endless cycle of change.

_"Using order to deal with the disorderly,_   
_using calm to deal with the clamorous,_   
_is mastering the heart."_   
  
_"Do not press a desperate enemy."_   
  
_"Do not stop an army on its way home."_

-The Art of War "VII: Armed Struggle" by Sun Tzu  
  
*********

　

Fresh clothes and a short drive later it was clear they’d come to the right place. Club patrons were spilling out everywhere along the sidewalk and onto the street. Inside it was as packed as it was smoky. He’d been told there were others who had gone on ahead of them. Assertively, their little group squeezed into the last vacant corner at the back of the room, hollering, "Here! Over here!" to one another, trying to make themselves heard above the music and the clamor. Altogether, they numbered seven.  
  
Tomo never actually caught up with Shannon until they were standing out front of the hotel lobby, so they really hadn’t had time to talk. He’d nodded to the two guys coming with them who'd been there after the show helping with the grunt work, and shook hands firmly but cautiously with Shannon’s suspiciously attentive "friend" while struggling to keep the stunned expression off his face. Solon. Where the fuck had he come from? Oh, sure, Tomo had seen him around before, back in the day, but had never really met the man face to face.  
  
Compact, dark-eyed, and overbearingly sure of himself, he’d edged closer to Shannon and muttered something into the smaller man’s ear that made them both laugh. Every smarmy, insinuating thing about the guy positively oozed confidence in their unmentionably private secrets. Tomo thought he could feel his blood pressure ticking up. He’d watched them stroll off across the parking lot together, bumping hips and bumming hits off a shared cigarette. As far as Tomo could tell, this display wasn’t anything even close to the closed system and sheer mind fuckery of Leto brothers’ hive brain, but Solon laid it on thicker. Tomo hated him already.  
  
Partly because next, after they’d all crammed into his car, he’d turned and craned his head back to stare at them from the driver’s seat, asking rather smugly, "So where’s Jared?" And Tomo had listened attentively as Shannon responded, taking note of how he fudged and mumbled ambiguously over the details of Jared’s absence, ending suddenly with, "How big is this place we’re going to anyway?" Like he was trying to change the subject.  
  
In other words, thought Tomo, you more-or-less ditched him back at the hotel. The question was why?  
  
Shannon raised voice pierced through the club's background din and human noise in an attempt at converastion with the others. Propping a shoulder against the coarse brick of the unfinished back wall, he leaned over and draped an arm around Tomo’s neck, tugging firmly while never once looking him in the eye. Casual, easy. Okay, not quite a chokehold, thought Tomo wryly. More like a swishily affectionate side headlock. For his part, Tomo had tried to react with aplomb, wondering what the game was. Feeling a familiar restless tingle of anticipation since, clearly, whatever the game was, it was on. Experimentally, he leaned against Shannon with equal candor, but got no reaction. That was disappointing. Focusing his blandest expression on Solon, he tried reading the man’s flawlessly sardonic face. What, if anything, was he making of all this? How well did he and Shannon really know each other? Tomo felt his competitive instincts surge.  
  
This was the part that always left him feeling anxious and aggressive, finding himself playing catch up in an unfamiliar scenario. He studied the expressions of their two roadies wondering what, if anything, they knew. Any info would be welcome at this point. The beefier one was gesturing boisterously towards the bar, only one thing on his mind, and the shy, younger one wouldn’t meet his eyes. Clueless, both of them.  
  
Shannon was laughing and exclaiming animatedly in response to some new comment Solon had made. Tomo couldn’t hear precisely what was being said, but Shannon’s arm remained wrapped around him making a decidedly proprietary statement about the band’s new guitarist. Tomo couldn’t deny that it felt good, but it was also kind of confusing. Mysteriously, a beer he hadn’t ordered and hadn’t paid for appeared in his hand. He sipped at it cautiously looking up in time to see Shannon’s smile. Oh, well. That was reassuring. Huh. Wha’ d’ ya know? This was starting to feel like a date. Meanwhile, Solon kept ignoring him while whispering his obscure jokes and insular remarks only to Shannon, no matter how tightly Shannon hugged Tomo to himself. And Tomo still couldn’t figure out why Shannon seemed to be so anxious to advertise the band’s new organizational chart to the guys from Jared’s informal retinue who’d tagged along with them.  
  
Just whose game were they playing anyway, he wondered?  
  
Finally, someone snagged them a table and they crowded around it swiftly dragging chairs from here, there and anywhere. Shannon claimed the spot next to Tomo, which perhaps was no surprise. Yup. Definitely a date. Suddenly, more and more new and some vaguely familiar faces were filling up the foreground, friends of friends or acquaintances who barely knew them, but had come to crash their little party anyway. Shannon smiled serenely and welcomed them all. A quick round of introductions were shouted across the table. Tomo nodded after each name, and watched out of the corner of his eye when Shannon sat back and lit up a cigarette.  
  
The flame of the match snapped to life in his hands, and for a moment he did nothing but cradle it and stare. Oddly, inexplicably, Tomo got the crazy impression it was like watching a man pray. As if Shannon were silently reciting a private invocation. The room around them vibrated hypnotically with the smooth sound of slow-handed drumming and a solo keyboard. Then, carefully, hiding its light behind his cupped palms, Shannon quietly transferred the light and burn from his match to the end of his cigarette, drawing deeply.  
  
Slowly, he exhaled a huge billow of smoke into the club's dimness. The blue-gray fog and the smell of it filled Tomo’s head. Just ordinary tobacco and second hand nicotine, but still, to Tomo it seemed as if the night itself was gradually turning into its own brand of intoxication. A glance at his beer reassured him the bottle was still half full. He glanced around at the press and nervous buzz of humanity surrounding them, letting the scene roll back before his eyes. Like in a movie, he thought hazily. Strangely, certain things began falling out of focus. Beside him, Shannon seemed lost in his funky but predictable state of post-ictal, after concert detachment. Pleasantly relaxed, but distant. A trickle of condensation ran down the cold surface of his beer bottle and over his hand. Like a single drop of the rain outside that kept threatening to fall. Tomo heard the shrilling laughter of women at the next table mix with the sudden sound of wailing guitars. From the small stage, a bluesy refrain kept repeating like a chant. He breathed in the choking incense of tobacco smoke and sweet, stale perfume, and briefly felt the room’s gravity shift and turn.  
  
"Jared would have loved this." A pair of dusky hazel eyes were fixed on Shannon, glittering with an undisguised hunger.  
  
Jared again, thought Tomo, twitching irritably at Shannon’s side.  
  
"Uh-huh." Shannon dragged on his cigarette serenely. The night seemed to blooming with invisible life all around him. Like Cereus, Tomo was thinking. Like deadly nightshade. Mephistopheles’ garden.  
  
"I could never get a sound like that out of my Gibson." The dark, wiry curls tilted tauntingly.  
  
"Well, no, you wouldn’t," Shannon acknowledged with a small, sly smile. "It's a good instrument but... not unless you wanted to build your own."  
  
Tomo thought he could hear a lazy insinuation in Shannon’s tone prompting him to speak, but something was wrong. He could sense the challenge between their soft exchange of words. He wished he understood the older man’s motives more clearly.  
  
"Yeah, Pythagoras is a whole different kind of … animal, isn’t it?"  
  
Jared, Jared, Jared. Tomo could have sprung at him. He had the creeping sensation of something predatory lurking just below the surface of the conversation. It made his fingers itch.  
  
"A gryphon." Shannon’s grin broadened slightly, and immediately the open door of Solon’s expectant expression closed.  
  
Wait, what just happened? Tomo stared.  
  
Definitively crushing out the butt of his cigarette, Shannon leaned forward and deftly turned the discussion to the subject of precision guitars.  
  
Instantly relieved, Tomo felt more like he was in his own element. The hypnotic tension seemed to lift. Voices all around their table became more animated. Drinks, smokes, a few good-natured arguments, and some bad jokes moved the hours along until at last they noticed the crowd was starting to get thin.  
  
"The guys are ready to leave," Shannon murmured to him quietly. "Do you want to go back now?"  
  
Tomo nodded, keeping his eyes on his hands resting so close to Shannon’s on the scarred surface of the tabletop. Just a while ago, he’d watched Solon’s long, icy white fingers find their way into the hair of their youngest tech.  
  
"Yeah," Tomo said, speaking in the lowest possible tone he could still make audible. "Jared’s probably looking for me."  
  
After all, the whole night had been full of his unseen presence, hadn’t it?  
  
Though the room was brimming over with noise, the hush that settled between them was even more deafening.  
  
"Tonight," Shannon stated simply, "you’re staying with me."  
  
His strong hand closed over Tomo’s as he rose from his chair, insistently pulling Tomo to his feet.  
  
Outside, large globules of rain clung tenaciously to the car’s windshield, evidence of a last, passing shower. Just beyond the city limits, the sky finally cleared. The twinkling of stars above the headlights illuminated their way back to the hotel. Huddled against Shannon in the back seat, Tomo was dreading the possibility of finding Jared waiting for him somewhere out in the open, but when they arrived the walkways and corridors were empty. It was well after midnight as they slipped off together to Shannon’s room.  
  
Safe behind its sanctuary door, Tomo slid gratefully into the security of the older man’s embrace. He closed his eyes and laid his cheek against Shannon’s. A silent, private sigh released the tightness in his chest. Disturbingly, fragmentary scenes from their evening together were still playing in the theatre behind his eyelids and wouldn't leave him alone. Not until Shannon’s lips brushed delicately over the corners of his mouth and every distressing little thought or care began to slowly melt away. He was being guided back into the room gently. They hadn’t even bothered to turn on a light. Shannon’s mouth teased and touched him expertly as they made their way towards the bed.  
  
Lips parted. Feet shuffled over the carpet. Their tongues dipped and tangled around one another’s. Delicious. Tomo drew in the dusky blend of cigarettes and dark ale that added to Shannon’s individual tang. A satisfying warmth flooded up through his belly, arousal had simply been waiting for the right moment. The tightly coiled muscles of Shannon’s arms enfolded him protectively. It was like being held in the grip of one of those great, powerful African cats, Tomo was thinking. Like a panther, maybe, moving silently through his environment, dark, territorial, and unseen.

Not the king of beasts, perhaps, but a very close relative.  
  
Shannon’s fingers found their way under the hem of Tomo’s shirt and stroked up the strong column of his back. He spread his hands wide over the expanse of Tomo’s shoulders, palming and kneading the knots of tightness above his shoulder blades. The night had not worn well on him. Tomo shifted his weight and leaned gratefully into Shannon's touch. He was tense, but that was partly what Shannon had been hoping for, to awaken that kind of alertness in him.  
  
"Easy, baby." Shannon’s whisper curled ghost-like over Tomo’s lips. Here was something his youngest band brother needed to know; this was the life he could look forward to. For better or for worse, they were all in it together. Let go of their hold on one another, and it would all come flying apart.  
  
Tomo snuggled his face against Shannon’s and exhaled slowly. Shannon felt the huff of warm breath tickle down his neck, releasing a stream of anxieties like unshed tears. It was nearly impossible to believe this was the same Tasmanian Terror of the tour bus whose self-involved erotic antics had been troubling everyone’s sleep for weeks now. Gently, he began easing Tomo out of his clothes.  
  
What he found beneath them was a soft-textured mosaic of dark hair and light skin cloaked in the night’s obscurity. Rather like Shannon had always imagined he would be. Curiously, his hand strayed into the black patch between Tomo’s legs, and molded itself over his cock, already swollen with anticipation. Its engorged darkness contrasted with the paler shade of Shannon’s possessive fingers. There was a momentary pause while neither of them moved and Shannon felt the surge of his own response growing. He smelled the musky scent of sex drifting up on the heat of their naked bodies and tested its essence. Bitter and sweet. He nuzzled closer, giving in to the urge to taste the other man’s skin. Eventually, restlessly, Tomo’s hips nudged forward into Shannon’s hand, growing impatient with his need, and the insistent tug of desire began pulling them down onto Shannon's bed.  
  
The sheets received them, smooth and cool against fevered skin. Tomo wound his legs around Shannon’s, squeezing their bodies tight against one another’s in the clutch of urgency. Together, they flung back blankets and pillows until there was nothing between them except an unresolved lust. Which, of course, was everything. So much that was unsaid remained to be explored.  
  
Shannon tried to quiet his own reaction long enough to smooth a long, silky strand of hair back from Tomo’s eyes. He stared into them deeply, wanting the chance to read whatever message might be there, but it was so distracting, feeling the insistent rub of Tomo’s exquisite hardness sliding wetly next to his own. Velvet brown eyes gazed back into his fiery ones, smoldering with a familiar heat and burn. A tongue tip flipped teasingly over the crease of Shannon’s lips making a subtle challenge and a reckless invitation. Bring it. Instantly, their mouths were locked together in a fierce contest of carnal dominance.  
  
All Shannon’s animal senses sprang to alertness, snarling savagely over the prospect of a long-denied victory. The bite and flame of raw passion licked at his tantalized skin unwinding a hidden power from the darkest part of his heart. There was a roaring in his ears, like thunder. Like the drums of war. In his haste, he fell right over the edge of its demanding brutality, responding without thinking. He rolled, pinning Tomo to the mattress and pried his legs apart with a single, rough thrust of his knee. Meekly, Tomo held his quaking thighs wide making a strategic surrender, a predetermined move in a contest that had become increasingly familiar whenever Letos were concerned. Somehow, knowing the rules and the outcome of their games had not made him any less eager for it. Working inward, Shannon’s hand groped over the prickle of sparse hair that decorated his tender, exposed thighs and grabbed at Tomo’s balls.  
  
Tomo arched against Shannon hungrily, craving the friction both their straining cocks were aching for. He heard the low growl of a warning echo deep in Shannon’s chest. In mindless abandon, Shannon shoved his rigid length harshly against Tomo’s underside, pausing only when he heard the sudden, sharp intake of breath beneath him. He felt Tomo tense involuntary, anticipating pain.  
  
"Fuck!" Shannon sat up abruptly, and pulled away.  
  
"What?" Tomo gasped, grasping his pulsing cock in a shaky hand.  
  
"Not like this."  
  
Tomo blinked at him in confusion.  
  
"Like what then?" He swallowed at the sudden chill in his throat. This was the second time he had seriously misjudged a Leto brother. If it was not his obedient capitulation Shannon wanted, then what?  
  
Tomo watched in dismay as Shannon settled back against the pillows and covered his face with his hands. What the hell had happened? What had he done wrong?  
  
Cautiously, he determined to begin again, creeping up to Shannon’s side, stretching himself long and lying carefully over Shannon’s body. He raised up on one arm just enough to trail his fingers lightly across Shannon’s chest, stopping to tickle at his nipples, pulling curiously on the fine hairs growing there. The rumbling response he provoked was cold and edgy. Shannon’s head snapped forward, lips adhering firmly to Tomo’s neck. Still not fully under control, his kisses nipped dangerously. His hand closed around Tomo’s wrist in a tight, restraining grip.  
  
"Don’t," Shannon ordered. Half threat, half desperate plea.  
  
Patiently, Tomo pressed his forehead to Shannon’s, then hesitatingly, his mouth. He moved slowly, feathering kisses over Shannon’s furrowed brow and trembling eyelids. Gradually, the iron grasp around his forearm began to loosen.  
  
Tomo’s wrist was being drawn steadily towards Shannon’s mouth until suddenly he was kissing it -- tenderly and reverently all along its soft, creamy underside. Testing, tasting, wanting, tracing the shadow of something unseen on the naked flesh. An icy pang of revelation seized Tomo’s gut as he stared, immobilized, at his own unmarked skin being caressed so lovingly under Shannon’s lips. When Shannon’s tremulous hand slid up beneath Tomo’s unruly hair, he found himself smiling into a pair of dark eyes brimming with profound sadness. Finally, Tomo thought he understood.  
  
So. This would not be a simple matter of breaking the hold of guilt over a night's impending indiscretion. This was a much more dangerous spell of tangled, twisted passions. Something much deeper, and much more powerful.  
  
Don’t worry, Shannon. Please don’t worry. Let it go. I won’t even give you the time to think about Jared.  
  
His head lowered between Shannon’s thighs, fingers combing through the coarse curls of his pubic hair. Two thumbs massaged firmly at the base of Shannon’s cock while Tomo’s lips covered its tip with more tender, wet kisses.  
  
"I’m not." Shannon’s groaning whisper struggled to make itself heard.  
  
"Not what?"  
  
"Thinking about him," he mumbled, as if Tomo had spoken aloud. He could see Shannon’s fists twisting in the sheets by his sides. Odd that he'd sensed something of what Tomo had been thinking. Even more telling that he would try to lie about it.

"So, slow down," Shannon swallowed and sighed. "It’s okay. Just you and me here."  
  
One of Shannon’s hands extended to stroke lightly over Tomo’s hair. He was finding the intellectual effort involved in speaking helping for clearing his head. Somewhat.  
  
"No one else," he breathed. Tomo deserved more from him. Needed more. Not more demons lurking in dark corners. Not if Shannon could force them back into the twilight through the power of his will. He reached down urging Tomo to slide up into his arms. There was a brief shuffle of limbs before his features swam into focus. Their lips touched tenderly. "We have all night."  
  
Shannon’s hands moved possessively over the curve of Tomo’s ass, following its roundness with his fingers, pressing into the fleshiness and rolling both cheeks under his sweat-dampened palms. God, yes. Definitely Tomo, not Jared.  
  
A small, smothered sound responded to Shannon’s explorations when his fingertips grazed over the sensitive pucker of skin at Tomo’s entrance. Eagerly, Tomo slid his knees up along either side of Shannon’s body, until he was seated on his cock, rubbing himself earnestly all over Shannon’s painfully stiff erection. Damn, all night or not, there was still the very demanding matter of sexual need between them.  
  
"How slow is slow?" Tomo inquired, grunting a little desperately.  
  
"Not very," Shannon conceded.  
  
Right.  
  
Shannon’s hand began fishing around under his pillow in a very business-like way. You had to give Tomo points for enthusiasm, he thought with a wry smile. He was not a boy who was afraid of the dark. Although he might have been better off if he was, just a little. Finally, Shannon produced the small bottle he’d been searching for, but when Tomo nodded and reached for it, Shannon held back.  
  
"Let me."  
  
"’kay," Tomo sounded dubious. His eyes searched Shannon’s face, trying to glean what they could from Shannon’s expression in the dimness.  
   
"Turn," Shannon said, his pupils were dilated large and black. Gingerly, Tomo switched his position.  
  
Leaning across Shannon’s knees, he felt a cool, slick finger swirling around his outside, and then sliding delicately into him. An expert touch stroked in and out, withdrawing and reinserting, probing the depths of Tomo’s snug heat. Ah-h. He needn’t have doubted. Shannon knew exactly what he was doing and how. On the third pass he found what he was searching for and worked the firm little knot of explosive energy diligently, leaving Tomo throbbing wickedly and fighting for control. He pushed back against Shannon’s hand, hips jerking helplessly on each inward thrust while his cock dribbling out wetly over Shannon’s thighs.  
  
"Now, Shan, please," he begged, pulling himself away from the skillful fingers and crawling up on all fours, waiting to be taken from behind.  
  
At first, he felt nothing, then a pair of hands were working their way up the back of his legs with torturous slowness, nails scrapping lightly over his famished skin. Briefly, Tomo imagined he could feel the prick and sting of invisible claws, like that big cat was back again. Any minute now he expected Shannon’s weight to press down on him, to feel the burn of Shannon’s cock burrowing into him. But instead of climbing over his back, Shannon slid up onto the bed beside him. His warm, comforting touch roamed over the ridges of Tomo’s ribs and reached under his arms. Carefully, Shannon turned him, and eased him down onto the jumble of sheets.  
  
Face to face, eyes urgently searching each other’s, their bodies came together struggling for the kind of emotional contact that was physically unattainable. Tomo fretted and squirmed against Shannon, feeling insufferably hot and wet. He rocked with him in a heady rhythm, pelvis flexing up and down. Then he rolled with him, tongue searching and hands wandering fitfully until at last he had persuaded the older man over onto his back again.  
  
Drawing himself up into a crouch, Tomo straddled Shannon’s groin, spreading himself receptively. Beneath him, he could feel Shannon pumping and slicking up his cock, making sure it would be as well prepared as the fingers that had opened him a moment earlier, only this time there would be more. Tomo shivered expectantly, hardly able to wait.  
  
Grabbing at Tomo’s hips, Shannon finally began guiding him down, carefully pushing upward with smooth, steady measured presses. Inside, Tomo’s darkness and heat was nearly suffocating him. A flurry of uncontrollable little muscle spasms greeted Shannon’s entry and left him pulsing madly. This was not going to take them long at all.  
  
Tomo sank down onto Shannon, moaning with satisfaction. An inferno of desire churned between them. It had been a long time since Shannon had plundered an ass this sweet. His butt snapped up off the mattress, hot flesh sliding snugly into hot flesh. Thrills of pleasure raced along his spine. Hips rising and falling, thighs shaking, Tomo stretched forward and lowered his head until his lips met Shannon’s. He sighed, making soft unintelligible little sounds. Not quite words, but Shannon understood him just the same. Their mouths clung together in a second deep, wet coupling. For a while, they shared breath. The fusion of their bodies seemed complete.  
  
Any boundaries left between them melted down into meaninglessness. All at once, the pumping of Tomo’s thrusts turned into a spiraling writhe. Shannon let it all go, felt the tense, erratic clenching around his cock begin and instantly his hips were jerking explosively. He emptied out into Tomo completely, filling him. Possessing and being possessed by him. Letting himself slide all the way down into the pit of their conjoined hunger and need.  
  
We’re falling, thought Tomo dizzily, as he spilled out onto Shannon belly, hot and milky. They were tumbling over and over one another, unanchored. Spinning in the absence of gravity. His heated thoughts were barely able to focus on anything beyond the frenzy between his legs, but... not like Matt, Tomo realized through the haze of passion, some place much darker. Like falling and falling into an immeasurably deep abyss of nothing, and blackness.  
  
"Shannon!…"  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He could feel the waves of pulsing and release going on inside him. His attention had been completely distracted by the frenetic clutching of his muscles around the fullness of Shannon’s cock, coming and coming. Inevitably he'd slipped out of control, until there was no other thought in his mind but the wrenching of their orgasms. Yet, somewhere in the background of that he'd heard the distant sounds of a struggle, and had the vague awareness of fighting something out together before a bottomless emptiness. Just the two of them, locked together as One, battling the terror of an eternal, fathomless silence.  
  
 _"Shannon!!"_  
  
When he stopped floating, the first thing he felt was the sudden weight of his own body pressing down into the bed again, and a strong pair of arms wrapped securely over his back. A voice was whispering words of comfort beside his ear. Tomo’s eyes opened, and he saw Shannon smiling at him quietly. It was like waking from a dream to the scent of a clean, fresh rain.  
  
"You okay? You were yelling."  
  
"Yeah?" Tomo gave a short, flustered laugh.  
  
"You didn’t sound happy."  
  
To Tomo, "happy" seemed like a very small and inadequate word to describe what he had experienced.  
  
"Well, I wasn’t expecting that," he said shyly. Fuck, no, that was... Tomo paused to collect his thoughts. What the fuck was that?  
  
"Mm. What were you expecting?" Shannon voice murmured into his ear softly.  
  
"Oh, you know… " His simplicity seemed foolish to him now. A fight to the death, maybe, if I couldn’t manage to take his place. Or… It had taken Tomo a dangerously long time to figure out exactly what was at stake here, almost too long.  
  
"No, what?" Shannon prompted him curiously.  
  
"Ah, a lesson in how to behave myself better?" Tomo joked. They’d been through so much together in the space of one night. He offered Shannon a weak grin. There were too many things he felt unable to say. "Either that, or I figured you’d tell me it was time to go home to Detroit." Half a truth was better than none.  
  
"No, babe. You are home."  
  
Tomo heard the words with an expanding sense of wonder. I am home. He laid his head against Shannon’s shoulder and curled up close, examining the idea like a child with a shiny, but puzzling, new toy. Home.  
  
Not a battlefield to be taken and held by one supreme victor.  
  
Shannon stretched out his hand for the blankets and snuggled Tomo even closer, wanting him to feel warm and safe. All night he kept a careful vigil, listening as the intervals between Tomo’s breaths gradually grew longer, until he was sleeping and dreaming. Not exactly the dreams of the innocent, no, hardly. But at least the dream of a hard-won peace. This was Shannon’s gift, his new creation for their precocious, earthy, darkling angel so badly in need of a new beginning.

_"…it is necessary to divide up the troops into smaller groups_   
_to take what they need here and there,_   
_for when then and there, there will be enough."_

\---------

When Matt rounded the corner of the building, he saw him. Actually, what he saw first was the red glow from the tip of his cigarette. He was barely visible, standing in the deep gloom beside a head-high concrete staircase. But, Matt knew it was Jared. Jared, who was normally so good to his voice and almost never smoked when he was singing every night out on tour.  
  
As he drew closer in the darkness, he could see Jared’s fingers were trembling. A quivering trail of smoke rose thinly above them, scattering apart like an apparition in the still air.  
  
"They’re together," Jared said, without being asked.  
  
Matt nodded. "You okay with that?" He squinted at Jared one-eyed under the harsh glare of a security light spilling its brightness out onto the walkway where he stood. Unsuccessfully, he tried to bury his own feelings under his concern for his band mate, hating himself a little for being such a coward.  
  
"Shannon thought maybe he was getting ready to leave."  
  
Stray bits of gravel crunched softly under his shifting feet. For his own reasons, Matt doubted that seriously, but said nothing.  
  
"Matt, sometimes I’m so… " Jared’s hands lifted helplessly pleading with an unspoken dread.  
  
"Uh-huh. I know, Jay," Matt responded comfortingly. "But that’s when you’re strongest."  
  
It was true. You broke Jared into a hundred pieces, and he came back a hundred times stronger. But, still, Matt had to wonder what Shannon was doing. Shannon, the loving, all-powerful brother who could break Jared in ways no one else could even think of. But never, ever did. That missing part of Jared’s unfinished sentence, those few simple words and the terrifying thing he could never quite bring himself to articulate, was a measure of just how dangerously Shannon being with Tomo was fueling his worst fears.  
   
Distracted by his own needs, Matt realized the only thing about the situation he was personally afraid of was the possibility of never feeling Tomo's touch again. As a band, out here on the road together, the threads of their lives were growing more tangled by the minute. If Matt had thought things were complicated before, they were even more so now.  
  
Achingly aware that suddenly there was nothing left for him to hold on to, Jared turned and focused his need on his one dependable, intimate friend. His large, empty eyes shimmered at Matt in the bleak half-light, and Matt had to look away quickly, knowing only too well how a man could drown in there.  
  
"He’ll talk to Tomo," Matt mumbled, not knowing what else to offer. Not feeling completely comfortable with what he understood Jared wanted. His gaze fixed on the shadows at his feet.  
  
Jared snorted, recovering himself long enough to voice an irony. "I sincerely doubt they’re doing much talking." He tossed away his cigarette and folded his hands together, letting his fingers close over themselves. Everything and everyone else he might have clung to seemed out of reach.  
  
"It’s all falling apart," he continued in a whisper. "I don’t know how to hold things together any more."  
  
"It’s held together this long," Matt stated bluntly. "You know enough."  
  
"I’m losing him." Him. The word clung to them in the darkness. Jared could sense Matt turning it over in his mind.  
  
"No," Matt said with finality. Then, he added softly, "Jay, don’t you think Shannon is the one you should be telling this to?"  
  
"I’m telling you."  
  
Of course.  
  
A few weeks ago the distance that had sprung up between them seemed unbreachable, but now Matt was feeling that old familiar tug in his chest again. The one that wanted to pull him forward, towards Jared and away from the anchoring solidity of his once independent life coupled to their shared vision. Away from the former friendship they had shared, and to which Matt had become accustomed. Inevitably, some impulse within him, some errant form of intuition, automatically responded to all of Jared’s changing, unspoken needs. And tonight it was going to make him take Jared in his arms, and cause him to press his lips into the softly scented hair. Only the thought of Tomo kept him momentarily motionless, hesitating and rooted in his place.  
  
"Let’s go back to your room." An entreaty, an exhortation.  
  
It was as irresistible as it was inevitable. Not knowing for certain why, Matt found himself giving in.  
  
Before he could let himself rethink things, he’d pulled Jared down onto his bed and his fingers began tugging at Jared's shirt; loosening buttons, peeling away layers, opening what was closed, unfastening what had been held fast. Until eventually, there was nothing but a raw nakedness between them. His mouth found the pulse point just below Jared’s ear and massaged it gently, matching the motions of his tongue to the beat of Jared’s heart.  
  
A sigh spiraled upward into Jared’s throat, like a song that had been hidden deep within him and had just now found the note. Matt’s hands traced the essence of its music over Jared’s skin until he vibrated like a deep-toned string.  
  
Exploring, embracing, fulfilling.  
  
His eyes closed. An auditory fantasy in Matt’s mind groaned as if some otherworldly power were turning the great wheel of the universe and he could hear it. He could feel it. Things were changing. He was being drawn irretrievably back into the cycle. Beneath him, Jared's climax broke on a soft, smothered cry. Tyche. This was the hand of the goddess, invoked to realign them with a new future. Here were Fortune and Nemesis, holding close their secrets and veiling their intentions. In some ways, Matt knew this time would be just like all the others. The band would journey out once more on the endless, limitless highway with a tight ribbon of destiny binding them together. And there would come the days when he'd feel like he was just along for the ride. But, that's where the similarities would end. New, things were waiting for him to discover and pursue on this next adventure. The time for decisions was rapidly approaching, when he would need to make a leap of faith into his own unique odyssey of harmony and fate.  
  
  
\--end --


End file.
